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RHYMES 



A 



BY 



STEVE W. SMITH 




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AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
TO 

My Sister 
SUDIE SMITH 



Copyright, 1913, by Ste\'E W. Smith. 



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CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Always 178 

Ah ! and Oh ! 99 

Asleep 135 

Ass and Fiddler 116 

Acrostic 98 

Another's 82 

At the Shining Portal 150 

Ah-pe-lah and I-took-a-Shoo 47 

Birthdays 110 

Be Thine 127 

Beauty 158 

Bent Twig 61 

Borrowed Nickel 163 

Birdies' Ball 174 

Blue or Brown ? 62 

Beautiful Shore 28 

Best of All 137 

But a Shadow 162 

Butter's Not Always Butter 179 

Bust the Biler, Pete 169 

Bryan 87 

Billie 67 

Beautiful Spot 21 

Bow and String 66 

Because 156 

Birthday Greetings 123 

Christmas 138 

Cousin Kate 89 

Creation 66 

Courting Versus Marrying 124 

Cake's All Dough 120 

Dead 129 

Drifting Away 69 



(4) 

PAGE 

Dog Was Dead 50 

Doctor 82 

Dancing 160 

Departed 165 

Dam or Daughter 153 

Different Styles and Sizes 43 

Double Sparking 119 

Enough for Me 12 

Editor 130 

Elizabeth 73 

Ever Remembered 129 

Exacerbation 103 

Ended 136 

Easter 148 

Evelyn 146 

For Thee 143 

Floweret 84 

Finger in the Pie 153 

Forget Me Not 140 

Fleeta ^ '. 64 

Fay .* 14 

Fishing on Sunday 18 

Forever 90 

Freezing or Blazing ! 158 

Greeting 123 

Gates Ajar 10 

Ginger Blue 168 

Go and Come 176 

Giants 132 

Gone 86 

Grandpa 76 

God Pity Us 113 

Good Old Ham 25 

Grass Grows Green Again 174 

Herbert 19 

Hereafter 177 

Headlights 102 

Hadn't Oughter 42 

Horribly Hard 161 

Hat on Wrong 141 

Hobble Skirt 147 

He Flewed 33 



(5) 

PAGE 

Halley's Comet 72 

If 119 

Fse Got a Peelin' for You 159 

I Will Run to Meet You 63 

Isabella Maria 145 

It 34 

In a Cottage 70 

Illusions of Alcohol ^ 142 

Imprisoned 131 

Julia Estelle 149 

Kissing 136 

Knock the Block Out 157 

Lonesome 31 

Little Goose 30 

Lighted Lamp ^. . 39 

Long Time Ago 23 

Little Hatchet 62 

Last Word 95 

Lula 138 

Love 178 

Lillian 167 

Lines to Marie 55 

Long Enough 114 

Lillian Sale 128 

Lost Valentine 117 

Linctum Bonum 150 

Like Washington 104 

Little Stephen's First Poem 35 

Lover and Sweetheart 113 

Love at First Sight 116 

Land of To-morrow 94 

Lily Cake 58 

Little Ruth 79 

Mashing 80 

Mother-in-law 108 

My Best Girl 86 

Musical 106 

Martha 68 

Man Who Cooks 33 

My Two Sweethearts ,. . . 80 

Me Girl's Hat 16 

Maid and Featherweight 112 



(6) 

PAGE 

My Lost Little Sweetheart 170 

My Pour Little Scamps .• 78 

My Mother 140 

My Ideal.; 79 

Mingled 122 

Maybe 135 

Mabel 104 

Mansions Above US 

My Gal's Gone Back on Me Ill 

My First, Best Love 146 

Modern Beatitudes 64 

Nip and Tuck 115 

Nonie Belle 98 

Never 40 

Next , 45 

Not Dead 35 

Not Now 11 

Not for Sale 78 

Not Made with Human Hands 70 

Nora Belle 90 

No Fu'ther 49 

No One but You 57 

Nude Cupid 12S 

Old Washpot 56 

Only a Dream 54 

Old Maid 92 

Over the 'Phone 122 

Old Davy's Paradise 20 

Old Mulberry Tree 71 

Old Fiddlers' Day 38 

Our First Parents 52 

On the Other Side of Jordan 84 

Old Warping Bars 12S 

Old Maid in Heaven '. 164 

Pie 24 

Pot Licker 13 

Pensiveness 31 

Public Roads 133 

Peach Cider 44 

Patter of the Shingle 15 

Prepare to Meet Thy God 60 

Pet Names 46 



(7) 

PAG^ 

Perennial Bloom 142 

Predestination 147 

Passing Away , 15& 

Paradox 29 

Romulus 93 

Riddle 71 

Romantic 9 

Rest '. 134 

Recollectioiw 73 

Riley's Custard Pie 160 

Rheumatism 166 

Rest Cure 151 

Smart Elics 131 

Silence , 175 

Sophistry 105 

Sunset 132 

Sprite 65 

Squeezing 102 

Sweet to Thee 100 

Sam 134 

Squeezing the Dollar 68 

Slipping and Sliding 48 

Somewhere 60 

Sweet Allie 41 

Solving the Dilemma 75 

Somewhat Scarce 37 

Summons 91 

Then 109 

Together 118 

'Tis Done 85 

To Thee 96 

To May 94 

To Woman 63 

Test 101 

There 32 

'Tis Hard 144 

Tiny Blue Pencil 77 

Tobacco ,. . . . 97 

Up the Hollow 107 

Up Yonder 17 

Under the Cedars 179 

Vain Regrets 180' 



(8) 

PAGE 

Valentine Greeting. 144 

Woman 81 

What Then? 28 

Withered Leaves 88 

Welded Link 51 

Whence — Thence 154 

When 26 

When — Then 173 

When I Die 172 

Waiting for Me 74 

When the Sun Went Down 100 

Wedding Bells 22 

What We Like 36 

Who's Kissing Her Now ? 83 

Woman's Yes and No 59 

Why? 110 

Watching 135 

Won't Tell 114 

Which Was First, Hen or Egg? 106 

Where You Are 88 

Your Wedding Night 74 

You and 1 44 

Youth and Love 43 

Your Picture 139 



H RHYMES 


s 



ROMANTIC. 

Your beautiful card has been received, 

And, lest I appear pedantic, 
I'll agree with fair connoisseur 

And admit the scene's romantic. 

On the people of the city 

It would be a disgraceful slam, 
Had they failed to show enterprise 

And that sinuous river dam. 

The eddying current babbles 

In its pellucid, sparkling flow 
O'er wall of solid masonry 

Firmly cemented in straight row. 

On huge bowlder in the channel 

Where once the dammed stream swiftly ran, 
In graceful attitude sitting, 

Is seen an animal called tnan. 

In the distance is the court house, 
Situated 'mong shade trees thick. 

And vivid imagination 

Can almost hear the town clock tick. 

Assuredly one might travel 

From Pacific to Atlantic, 
And in that stretch of many miles 

View not a scene so row-man-tick. 



(lO) 



THE GATES AJAR. 

As through the fields of life we go, how oft 
The good we mar ; for, as from field to field 
We pass, the gates we leave ajar, heedless 
As to the course we pursue, and many- 
Times distant far from the plain way of right, 
Unmindful of what in our ruthless haste 
Our feet may crush and ruin, of duties 
Unperformed forgetful, onward we scamper 
With the gay and thoughtless throng, and the gates 
Leave ajar. Whether through pastures green stroll 
We aimless, or wander in the welcome 
Shade cast by the leafy boughs of forests 
Dense and tall, or ramble along the banks 
Of sinuous streamlets swiftly flowing 
Down the grass-carpeted vales, where in rich 
Profusion variegated flowers 
In fragrant beauty bloom, or in reckless 
Haste clamber precipitous ascents, where 
Lurk unseen dangers, or with perilous 
Speed descend treacherous declines abrupt. 
Or o'er vine-clad hills, where the purple grapes 
In luscious ripeness hang, idly saunter, 
Or gayly rove through well-pruned orchards, where 
The bending branches with ripening fruit 
Are heavily laden — press we quickly 
On, and, with neglect inexcusable, 
The gates leave ajar. Through broad, fertile fields 
White unto the harvest, where in wide swaths 
The golden grain, newly mown by the sharp 
Scythe of the reaper, by the few busy 
Laborers faithfully in the Master's 
Service working, Hes ready into sheaves 



(II) 

To be gathered, we, unprofitable 

Servants, toiling not, onward rush and leave 

The gates ajar. Alas! vigilant are 

The ever-active agents of evil; 

Cautiously following us afar. 

These productive fields to blight and destroy, 

Steal the wary hordes of wrong, through the gates 

We've carelessly left ajar. May we strive, 

With no sin of omission, but finished 

Duly each daily task, giiided always 

By the Spirit of Truth, in faith and hope 

Through life's rich, fruitful fields in peace to pass 

And leave no gates ajar. 



NOT NOW. 



I loved what I believed you were 

While truth still crowned your brow; 

Ere life was stained by falsehood's blur, 
I loved you then, but — not now. 

I loved you when I thought you true 

And too noble to bow 
To deception ; yes, I loved you 

Truly then, but — not now. 

The memory of what you were when 
You pledged that broken vow 

I love still ; yes, I loved you then 
A heartful, but — not now. 

Should another world with powers 

New the spirit endow, 
Maybe, 'neath celestial bowers, 

I'll love you then, but — not now. 



(12) 



ENOUGH FOR ME. 

When I was a pretty little babe, 

Innocent as I could be, 
I lived for one whole year on sweet milk, 

And that was enough for me. 

When I disobeyed my kind mother, 
She laid me across her knee. 

Half-soled my pants with her old slipper, 
And ,that was enough for me. 

One day I went into the garden 

And tackled a bumblebee; 
But he burnt me with his red-hot sting. 

And that was enough for me. 

I climbed after a sly old 'possum 
High up in a 'simmon tree; 

But I tumbled out and broke my neck. 
And that was enough for me. 

Once I loved a pretty little girl, 
But an awful flirst was she. 

For she played the dickens with my heart. 
And that was enough for me. 

I ate six cakes of mutton tallow 
When I was on a big spree; 

It made me so fat that I couldn't walk. 
And that was enough for me. 

I married me a beautiful wife. 

She put pepper in my tea, 
Then salted me down just like fresh pork. 

And that was enough for me. 



(13) 

If ever I get to Paradise 
And the holy angels see, 

Just give me goobers and popcorn, 
And that'll be enough for me. 



POT LICKER. 

When I was an urchin, 
Frolicsome as could be, 
Black mammy often led 
Me to her log cabin, 
And as a treat gave me 
Pot licker and corn bread. 

Many a quiet man. 

When it comes to his food, 

Is a finical kicker; 

But ne'er did I refuse 

In a petulant mood 

Hoe cake and pot licker. 

Daintiest refreshments 
Ofttimes have I eaten, 
Tempting as cook can make; 
But I've tasted nothing 
That ever has beaten 
Pot licker and ash cake. 

To possess that relish 
And enjoyment again 
With time would I dicker, 
For with my childish dreams 
Forever will remain 
Cold bread and pot licker. 



(14) 



FAY. 

In the Lone Star State, 

Where winter comes late, 
And early spring flowers are gay. 

Where the South winds blow, 

In the town of Llano, 
Lives there a lovely little Fay. 

Her eyes are as bright 

As the gems of night 
When fled has the light of the day; 

They outshine in mirth 

The jewels of earth, 
For glad is the heart of the Fay. 

With her bonny hair 

On her shoulders fair 
In dalliance the breezes play, 

And the sunlight glints 

On the rosy tints 
In the cheeks of the winsome Fay. 

Graceful as a fawn, 
She trips o'er the lawn, 

As sweet as the blossoms of May; 
As pure as the snow, 
No care does she know, 

Happy is the life of the Fay. 

Not ever she'll be 

So joyous and free. 
For the days of youth glide away; 

And there'll come a time 

When passions sublime 
Will burn in the soul of the Fay. 



(15) 

Since Cupid is blind, 

He's not always kind, 
And oft his arrows go astray; 

But as with keen sight 

May he aim aright 
When he pierces the heart of the Fay. 

Then life will be sweet. 

Though sorrows she'll meet, 
As she grows old, and worn, and gray, 

Till at last in love 

The Father above 
Calls home the redeemed little Fay. 



THE PATTER OF THE SHINGLE. 

In my childhood days, so bright and free, 

Oft did my little body tingle, 
As I lay across my mother's knee 

And felt the patter of the shingle. 

Sometimes my father, too, I'd offend. 
Then, like the sleighbells' merry jingle. 

When across his lap my form he'd bend, 
I'd hear the patter of the shingle. 

How many times in the after years, 
When cares with joys began to mingle, 

Did I, in disappointment and tears, 
Listen to the patter of the shingle! 

To the end of time thus will it be, 
For happiness remains not single, 

But unites with sorrow, and know we 
Till death the patter of the shingle. 



(i6) 



ME GIRL'S HAT. 

Were I an insect, 

I'd want to be a gnat, 

Lest, strung with my kindred 

On fine silver wire, I'd make 

A strand of jet beads 
For me girl's hat. 

If I were a bird, 

I'd want to be a bat. 
Nocturnal in habits. 
Lest my gorgeous plumage 
Might show in adornment 
On me girl's hat. 

Were I a rodent, 

I'd want to be a rat, 
Lest my caudal appendage 
Might gracefully dangle 
From the shapeless brim 
Of me girl's hat. 

If I were a reptile, 

With shining scales flat, 
I'd be a venomous snake, 
Lest my elongated skin 
Might make the stuffed band 
On me girl's hat. 

If I were a beast, 

Ponderous and fat, 
I'd be a rhinoceros. 
Lest my dressed dermis 
Form lining of Jumbo crown 

Of me girl's hat. 



(17) 

Were I — but I'm just a man, 

Stupid and timid at that ; 
Yet I wish we were a pair 
As I stand and fondly stare 
At the face divinely fair 
'Neath me sfirl's hat. 



UP YONDER. 

With limited sight of mortal eyes 
We gazed at the far-away skies 

With feelings of awe and wonder, 
And vainlv long that distant blue 
With human vision to pierce through 

And behold the glories Up Yonder. 

But eye of man has never seen 

The splendors hid by that blue screen, 

Where not in thought can we wander ; 
Attuned anew must be the ear 
Ere the melodies we can hear 

That sweetly resound Up Yonder. 

Ne'er have entered into man's heart 
The things that God hath set apart 

Eor those that here do not squander 
The opportunities to all 
In mercy given to meet the call 

To life eternal Up Yonder. 

When worldly trials forever cease. 
The weary soul shall rest in peace 

And o'er sorrow no more ponder; 
Then shall know the spirit redeemed 
Gladness of which it never dreamed 

On earth, in the Home Up Yonder. 
2 



(i8) 



FISHING ON SUNDAY. 

In the 3'ears that are dead, 

Ere youth's bright hopes had fled, 

And life with cares and pain was laden. 
When I in pleasures gay 
The swift hours passed away, 

I knew a demure Christian maiden. 

With her it was a rule 

To go to Sabbath school — 
She never put it off till Monday, 

Nor expressed she a wish 

On the Lord's Day to fish. 
Yet she caught suckers every Sunday. 

Just between me and you, 

I know this is as true 
As tides flow in the Bay of Fundy; 

It makes my mouth pucker 

To admit I'm a sucker 
She adroitly landed on Sunday. 

When, she, in after life. 

Was a sweet, faithful wife, 
And dwelt where the timber is scrubby. 

As sure as you are born. 

Every fair Sunday morn 
She went a:-fishing with her hubby. 

From mudd}', stagnant pools 

In the River of Fools, 
Standing on the Pons Asinorum, 

An angler more expert 

Never gave rod a flirt 
And hooked the suckers ad valorem. 



(19) 

When she her fish story 

Tells Ike Walton in Glory, 
Like that charming widow, Mrs. Grundy, 

She may not care a durn 

When this fact she shall learn. 
There's no fishing in Heaven on Sunday. 



HERBERT. 



In the glory of manhood's dawn 

Came the summons of death to thee; 

From the walks of men hast thou gone. 
And thee on earth no more I'll see. 

In anguish dire for thee I weep, 
Yet naught avail the tears I shed, 

For in the grave must thy form sleep 
Till earth and sea give up their dead. 

Oh! it was hard to give thee up, 

My noble boy, though God thee took; 

In bitter tears I drain the cup, 

Still in sweet hope to Him I look. 

I know that He does all things right. 

And to His will I humbly bow ; 
And some sweet day will He make bright 

What to my heart is darkness now. 

Never again, while here I live. 

Wilt thou with bounding footstep meet me; 
But when He eternal life shall give. 

In Heaven, precious Herbert, I'll greet thee. 



(20) 



OLD DAVY'S PARADISE. 

Whar de hoppergrass dine 

On de sweet 'tater vine, 
An' de doodlebug grabble in de san', 

Dar lib my Julie Ann, 

VVid a big fryin' pan, 
To cook sweet 'taters in de sandy Ian'. 

Whar de yaller gals look 

Lak picters in a book 
An' cool demse'ves wid a palmetto fan, 

An' dip de home-made snuff 

Wid blackgtim brushes tuff, 
While dey, digs 'taters in de sandy Ian'. 

Whar de skeeters cum nigh 

Wid deir sweet lullaby. 
An' de bulltoads jine in de noisy ban', 

An' croak deir soothin' song 

Durin' all de night long 
To de sweet 'taters in de sandy Ian'. 

Whar de fat 'possums be 

Up in de 'simmon tree, 
An' de chickens roos' jes' right fur de han', 

An' Brer Rabbit am slick. 

An' de 'coon am kotch quick 
To bake wid sweet 'taters in de sandy Ian'. 

Whar de watermillion's meat 

Am red as any beet, 
An' blackberries am thick as dey can stan', 
. . An' de roasin' years am fine. 

An' de punkins on de vine. 
An' candied de 'taters in de sandy Ian'. 



(21) 

Whar de white folks sleeps soun' 

^^'hile yuse a-prowlin' 'roun'. 
An' de fat shotes jes' make de mouf expan', 

An' my gal's a-hummin' 

Ob de good times a-comin' 
As she skins 'taters in de sandy Ian'. 

Dar yo' Unker Davy 

Sops de brindle gravy, 
An' drinks his coffy fum an' ister can, 

An' eats sawgum 'lasses 

An' hoe cake fum de ashes 
Wid sweet 'taters fum de sandy Ian'. 

When dis nigger am dead 

An' de las' pra'r am sed, 
As roun' his grabe de weepin' mo'ners stan'. 

'Fo' dey kiver him deep 

In dat long, quiet sleep, 
Drap in a 'tater fum de sandy Ian'. 



A BEAUTIFUL SPOT. 

Lovely the scenery, and vast its expansions ! 
To mind the Home it called where are many mansions ; 
Grand were the giant oaks, all leafless, gnarled and old; 
Yet there's a fadeless Tree unknown to time and mold ; 
Sunset kissed the blushing clouds in the glowing west. 
While onward flowed the stream in its ceaseless unrest; 
Crystal waters mirrored the zenith's cloudless blue. 
Of objects on the banks back lifelike pictures threw; 
Crimson were the berries, the holly leaves bright green; 
I read her gracious lines — the first I'd ever seen — 
Then from my lonely heart my sadness quickly fled. 
And in my grateful soul in ecstasy I said : 

"I know she's kind, and sweet, and beautiful." 



(22) 



WEDDING BELLS. 

The Wedding Bells forth loudly peal 

The tidings glad to-night; 
You at the bridal altar kneel, 

Your lifelong vows to plight. 

Together you with happy hearts 

Covenant each you will, 
Till faithful lives alone death parts. 

Your marriage vows fulfill. 

On you the hosts of Heaven look 
With smiles at your delight, 

And angels in the Lamb's Book 
Your sacred pledges write. 

May your beautiful wedded life 

One long honeymoon be. 
And you prove an ideal wife, 

A model husband he. 

Be your To-day free from sorrow, 

No cloud its sky o'ercast, 
Nor you e'er long for To-morrow 

Or sigh o'er the dead Past. 

When you with age are worn and gray, 

Whate'er may you betide. 
In love may you both bless the day 

That you became his bride. 

Till safe across death's chilly stream 
Your spirits have been taken. 

Be life to you a roseate dream. 
From which you'd never awaken. 



(23) 



LONG TIME AGO. 

Gay seemed the earth, a place for mirth, 

Unfit for woe; 
The day was bright, star-lit the night. 

Long time ago. 

The birds would sing, the green woods ring 

And soft winds blow; 
And flowers grew 'neath skies so blue. 

Long time ago. 

Life was to me from sorrow free, 

Care I didn't know ; 
My heart was light, my hopes were bright, 

Long time ago. 

No threat'ning cloud my peace could shroud, 

Came rain or snow ; 
Each day with naught but joy was fraught, 

Long time ago. 

The years have flown, and old I've grown 

^^'ithout rainbow ; 
And still I pine for what was mine 

Long time ago. 

Fast daylight fades, fall evening shades, 

The sun is low ; 
To death I'll bow, and will be Now 

Long time ago. 

Across the bars, beyond the stars. 
Where tears ne'er flow. 

And hearts ache not, will be forgot 
Long time ago. 



(24) 



PIE. 

When spring has come and warm winds blow. 
And fields are fair in sunlight's glow, 
And vines grow red beneath the sky. 
Then we can have a berry pie. 

When steals the hawk the old hen's brood. 
And struts the gobbler like a dude. 
And to roost pole young fowls fly, 
We then can have a chicken pie. 

When young birds leave the natal tree, 
And 'mong buckwheat hums the bee, 
And fruit matures and summer's nigh, 
Then's the time for green-apple pie. 

When days are long and skies are blue. 
And the short nights are damp with dew. 
And in the patch ripe melons lie. 
We then can eat good old peach pie. 

When hoar frosts on the pumpkins lie, 
And leaves turn red and flowers die. 
And sweethearts smile and lovers sigh. 
We then can have Thanksgiving pie. 

When earth is clothed in spotless white, 
And Santa Claus comes in the night, 
And good-will beams in every eye. 
We then enjoy our Christmas pie. 

\Mien marriage bells ring sweet and low. 
And loving hearts, for weal or woe. 
United are in holy tie. 
Partake we of the wedding pie. 



(25) 

When we on earth our course have run 
And see at last Hfe's setting sun, 
With cloyed palate and glazing eye, 
Then taste we all of death's cold pie. 



GOOD OLD HAM. 

You may talk about good eating 

An6 praise the oyster, crab, and clam. 

And rave about your quail-on-toast ; 
But just give me the good old ham. 

From Kalamazoo to the poles. 
From the seacoast to Yuba Dam, 

There is no other food so fine 

As sweet and juicy, good old ham. 

The dinner others may enjoy. 

But I regard it as a sham, 
If on the menu I find not 

My favorite dish, good old ham. 

Some delight in porterhouse steak. 
And some prefer nice veal or lamb, 

And some relish the stew or bake : 
But I like best the good old ham. 

Some are fond of boarding-house hash. 
Some like cake, pie, jelly, and jam, 

And some like eggs, fowl, fish, and game; 
But I am fond of good old ham. 

I like it boiled, raw, fried, or broiled — 
With me it matters not a d — ime; 

Just ciit me off a hunk of bread 
And a big slice of good old ham. 



(26) 



whp:n. 

When cockleburs are nipped by frost, 
And ocean waves are not storm- tossed, 
And henpecked husbands are not bossed 
By cross-eyed wives with tempers crossed, 
And merchants all sell goods at cost, 
And age by youth is never sauced. 
And all defects cease to be glossed, 
I'll find the time that I have lost. 

\Mien lives no more the crabbed churl. 
Nor waxed mustache does dandy twirl, 
Nor spinster wear the corkscrew curl. 
Nor his keen darts blind Cupid hurl, 
" And freedom shall her banner furl, 
And worthless is the costly pearl. 
And C3'clones shall no longer whirl, 
I then may find my lost best girl. 

When triumphant roosters cease to crow. 
And no man does his own horn blow, 
And women shopping cease to go, 
And lightning travels at speed slow, 
And scalding hot shall fall the snow. 
And human tears no longer flow. 
And hearts no more shall sorrow know, 
I'll feel the joys of long ago. 

^M^en lunch counters are minus pie, 
And dudes look not with goo-goo eye. 
And horse jocke3-s shall cease to lie, 
And "because"' is not woman's "why," 
And wingless birds can swiftlv flv. 



(27) 

And clouds no more shall veil the sky, 
■ And mortal things shall cease to die, 
I'll find the lost for which I sigh. 

When forks are made without a tine, 
And spineless is the porcupine, 
And men despise women and wine, 
And cabbage grows on pumpkin vine. 
And the hungry shall cease to dine, 
And breaks the equinoctial line, 
And sun and stars no more shall shine, 
I'll know the peace that once was mine. 

When butter is made without a churn, 
And his own living each must earn, 
And style and fashion each shall spurn, 
And wisdom's ways the fool shall learn, 
And wheels and axles no more turn, 
And volcanic fires cease to burn, 
And is condemned the whole concern, 
I'll gain the rest for which I yearn. 

When geese fly to the cuckoo's nest. 
And ex-candidates eat crow with zest, 
And not as truth is falsehood dressed. 
And earth revolves from east to west, 
And from all toil the weary rest, 
And safe lies lamb on lion's breast, 
And people have what they love best, 
I then shall be among the blest. 



(28) 



THAT BEAUTIFUL SHORE. 

When life's pilgrimage is ended, 
And on earth our labors are o'er, 

If by the Master commended. 

We'll rest on that beautiful shore. 

Our trials and sorrows forgot, 
By us remembered never more ; 

But where pain and sadness come not, 
We'll rest on that beautiful shore. 

The ages shall cycle away. 

And seasons come as heretofore ; 

Yet we'll know not time or decay. 
At rest on that beautiful shore. 

There our lost loved ones we shall greet 
And from them be parted no more; 

But safe in happiness complete. 
We'll rest on that beautiful shore. 



WHAT THEN? 

If creation should lose its poise. 
Music of spheres be rasping noise. 
Attractions all be mere decoys, 
And drowned in grief be earthly joys, 
What then? 

Suppose our uncles were our aunts. 
By will-o'-the-wisps the fairies dance. 
And echo seashells mermaid chants, 
While prowl lost souls as graveyard "hants," 
What then? 



(29) 

If sightless eyes should gaze and blink 
At curveless rainbow black as ink, 
Painted on sky the hue of pink 
By sun below horizon's brink. 
What then? 

Should his own skillet each man tote, 
And wool of sheep grow on scapegoat, 
Ocean be crossed in bottomless boat. 
And blind deaf-mute sing siren note, 
What then? 

Should human tears make sea o'erflow, 
Till trumpet loud shall Gabriel blow, 
And women pure be doomed below. 
While trifling man to Heaven should go. 
What then? 

He'd think himself cruelly caged. 
And would rebel, could war be waged 
Again where once Satan, enraged, 
Against Michael his prowess gauged. 
What then? 

From golden hinge the gate he'd tear. 
In frantic effort of wild despair, 
To cross the chasm to Tophet's glare, 
And be with woman forever there. 

What then? 

(That's all.) 



A PARADOX. 

Lovely woman's a paradox ; 

Pensive as an angel can she be; 
But, when roused to fury, she mocks 

The wild cyclone on a spree. 



(30) 



THE LITTLE GOOSE. 

I asked her zifliy she'd acted so, 
But it was of no use; 
" I don't know, unless it's just because 
I'm such a httle goose." 

I was sorry for my anger. 

For it was no excuse ; 
I longed to clasp her to my heart 

And kiss the Httle goose. 

That was many years ago, 

Ere I'd felt earth's abuse, 
While still I dreamed she might become 

My own sweet little goose. 

Fickle fortune was false to me — 
It seemed Satan was loose — 

And, in spite of all I could do, 
I lost the little goose. 

It seemed ordained that I should fail. 

Cruel fate makes no truce ; 
Another came and took away 

The precious little goose. 

Whether in calm or hurricane. 
Among the palms or spruce, 

Amid the thorns or the roses, 
I've missed the little goose. 

I look back on life in wonder, 
For I have played the deuce ; 

I've let the world go to thunder 
And loved the little e:oose. 



(31) 



PENSIVENESS. 

Sweet is the modest violet 

Whose purple petals earth doth fill 

With redolence exquisite; yet, 

Pensiveness, tlioit art sweeter still. 

The stars that shine through holes that seem 
To have been cut in the distant skies 

Are not brighter than the love-light beam 
In thy glorious soul-lit eyes. 

I'll be true till the Reaper grim 
Thee, like a lovely rose full-blown, 

Shall pluck in life's evening twilight dim 
That Heaven may have its own. 



LONESOME. 

A man, grown tired of worldly cares, 

Decided to change his abode ; 
He joyfully climbed the Golden Stairs, 

Where rest eternal's bestowed. 

Wide open the gate St. Peter threw 
And welcomed the stranger to Heaven; 

A halo, harp, and raiment new. 

And a pair of wings to him were given. 

Alone to himself did he declare 

In Realm for which martyrs have striven: 
" I never imagined while down there 

A man could feel lonesome in Heaven." 



( 32 ) 



THERE. 

Far away beyond the sunset, 
Where sin's black flag is furled, 

Where pain and death are never met, 
There is a Glory World. 

There is a Clime where is no night. 

Nor needs it moon or sun, 
For thereof is the Lamb the light, 

And ne'er its day is done. 

There's a City beyond the stars, 
The streets are paved with gold, 

And naught its beauty ever mars. 
Nor grows it ever old. 

There is a Home of endless peace. 
Where souls redeemed are blest ; 

The wicked there from troubling cease, 
And there the weary rest. 

There is a House not made with hands, 
Where is no chastening rod ; 

It on the Rock of Ages stands, 
And is its builder God. 

There is a Place prepared for you, 

The blessed Master made. 
Far out beyond the cloudless blue, 

W'here glories never fade. 

There shouts of triumph ever ring 
Throughout that welkin wide. 

And anthems holy angels sing 
Where blood-bought saints abide. 



There, where the ceaseless cycles roll 

And life immortars given, 
"Slay rest your pure, sweet, noble soul 

In God's eternal Heaven. 



THE MAN WHO COOKS. 

We like the sunshine and like the showers, 
We like the birds, and we like the flowers; 
We like sweet music, and we like good books; 
But who likes the man who eats what he cooks ? 

We laugh with the glad and dance with the gay; 
We romp with the young and rest with the gray; 
We walk iiji the woods and kneel by the brooks, 
And pray for the man that eats what he cooks. 

We love our own selves, and we love our kin; 
We love all women, and we love some men; 
We might love a tramp or even a crook, 
But who'd love the man that is his own cook? 

We mourn o'er our sins and pray for our bread; 
We feel for the wronged and weep for the dead; 
We're sorry for those wdiom Satan defeats; 

But God help the man who cooks what he eats ! 

We pity the sick and pity the sad ; 

We pity the poor and pity the bad : 

We pity the maimed and those ill looking; 

But God pity him who does his own cooking! 

All classes of people on earth there be : 
They're seen on the land and met on the sea ; 
But go through Heaven and search every nook, 

You'll not find a man who was his own cook. 
3 



(. 34 ) 



IT. 

\A'hen puffed up with our self-conceit, 
We feel that we are hard to beat, 
And oft we seem to lose our wit 
And vainly think that we are It. 

Fortunate indeed should we be, 
Since none of us ourselves can see. 
Could aught from vanity so free us 
We'd see ourselves as others see us. 

Experience keeps a dear school, 
Yet in no other will learn the fool ; 
But he always a wise man makes 
Who sees and mends his own mistakes. 

The burnt child's afraid of fire, 

But the washed sow goes back to the mire; 

Still the animal's not to blame, 

For its nature remains the same. 

A dog a dog will ever remain. 
And to his vomit return again ; 
But, could be changed the brute's soul. 
The child could play on the asp's hole. 

When all animals feed on grass, 

And extinct is the human ass. 

We then may learn all men are brothers, 

And we're no wiser than are others. 

When all "little you's" and ."big I's" 
Have swelled and shrunk to the same size, 
And their clothes one another fit, 
Possibly then we'll all be It. 



(35) 



XOT DEAD. 

You weep for what you never owned. 
A jewel rare to you God loaned ; 
Aches your heart with grief consuming; 
Yet, where the Tree of Life is blooming, 
Not so sparkles the morning dew. 
As shines that gem with luster new ; 
But your soul's filled with sore dismay 
Because His own God's taken away. 

When seems the heart broken with sorrow, 
And clouds to-day pall to-morrow. 
Oft would the soul in despair cry : 
" Merciful God ! now let me die." 
But clouds will vanish, and you'll behold 
The new-born day in purple and gold ; 
To joy will grief again give place, 
And you'll meet duty with smiling face. 

Where pain and death can never be. 
That gem reclaimed, once more you'll see 
Ablaze with light from Jehovah's throne, 
Then you'll rejoice He claimed His own. 
Walk in faith, though thorny the way, 
Till shall to you the blaster saj-, 
In tones that will }-our heart inspire: 
" \Ye\l done I brave soul. Come up higher." 



LITTLE STEPHEN'S FIRST POEjM. 

The house is on the level, 
The land is sloping back. 
.\nd that's just the reason 
The back's higher than the front. 



36) 



\\-HAT WE LIKE. 

We don't like the church and don't like the preacher; 
We don't like the school and don't like the teacher; . 
We don't like the doctor and don't like his pills ; 
We don't like the merchant and don't like his bills; 
We don't like the workman and don't like his shop; 
We don't like the farmer and don't like his crop ; 
We don't like the lawyer and don't like his fee ; 
But we dearly like somebody — we like Mc. 

We don't like springtime, and we don't like summer; 
W'e don't like samples, and we don't like drummer; 
We don't like autumn, and we don't like winter; 
We don't like paper, and we don't like printer : 
We don't like the ship and don't like the sailor ; 
We don't like the clothes and don't like the tailor; 
We don't like the cloud, and we don't like the sky; 
But we do like somebody — and it is /. 

We don't like the jury and don't like the judge; 
We don't like the loafer and don't like the drudge; 
We don't like the soldier and don't like the camp; 
We don't like the settled and don't like the tramp; 
W'e don't like the driven and don't like the led; 
We don't like the living and don't like the dead ; 
We don't like quietude and don't like a fuss : 
But we do fondly like something — we like Us. . 

We don't like valleys, and we don't like mountains ; 
We don't like rivers, and we don't like fountains; 
We don't like the forest, and we don't like the lea; 
W^e don't like the land, and we don't like the sea ; 
W'e don't like the dust, and we don't like the mud ; 
A\"e don't like the drouth, and we don't like the flood; 



(37) 

We don't like poverty, and we don't like pelf ; 
But we truly like some one — we like Myself. 

We don't like disorder, and we don't like rule; 
We don't like the wise, and we don't like the fool ; 
We don't like the tree, and we don't like the fruit; 
We don't like the glib, and we don't Ijke the mute; 
We don't like the loser and don't like the winner: 
We don't like the saint and don't like the sinner; 
W'e don't like the captive and don't like the free ; 
But we do like somebody — and it is ll'e. 

We don't like the early and don't like the late; 
We don't like the crooked and don't like the straight; 
We don't like the plain, and we don't like the fair; 
We don't like the round, and we don't like the square; 
We don't like the old, and we don't like the new ; 
We don't like the false, and we don't like the true ; 
We don't like space or time or when time is done ; 
We don't like anything — except Number One. 

We don't like the man and don't like the woman ; 
We don't like the brute and don't like the human ; 
We don't like misery, and we don't like mirth ; 
We don't like other worlds, and we don't like the earth ; 
We don't like Satan, and we don't like the lost ; 
We don't like the place where they never have frost; 
We don't like a ghost, and we don't like the elves ; 
Liked we but the good, how could we like Ourselves? 



SOMEWHAT SCARCE. 

The wives that to nag their husbands 

Never make it a habit 
Are just about as scarce as eggs 

Laid bv an Easter rabbit. 



(38) 



OLD FIDDLERS' DAY. 

To-day old-time fiddlers 

For prizes will contest, 
And judges will decide 

Which ones perform the best. 
So tune up Old Betsy 

And rosin well the bow, 
We'll don our Sunday suit. 

And to the show will go. 

When o'er the strings the bow 

With graceful ease they pull, 
\\"\\\ turn with en\w green 

The soul of Ole Bull; 
And the shades of Mozart 

And wild Paganini 
W^ill Paradise forsake 

And refuge seek in Guinea. 

Ye fiddlers, saw away 

And execute with zest. 
The big hullabaloo 

Join in with all the rest ; 
W'ith skill the bow-arm use, 

Finger true, good time keep. 
And, like old Morpheus, 

Your hearers play to sleep. 

In soulless performing 
True merit never lies ; 

You must play with feeling 
If you would gain the prize. 



( 39 ) 

Should you fail to C-sliarp, 
You may lose and B-flat ; 

So calmly keep your head 

And mind where you "are at." 

Your violin make speak, 

Sigh and weep, laugh and sing, 
Till thrilling melodies 

In every heart shall ring ; 
Strive to win first honors. 

The whole caboodle beat ; 
But covet not success. 

Should come to you defeat. 

\'\'hen age dulls the senses 

And you no longer play, 
May you in reverie 

Live o'er this gala day, 
And once more in memory 

With your rivals compete, 
And hear again in dreams 

That stirring music sweet. 



LIGHTED LAMP. 

At Heaven's Gate a lamp burns bright 
Penitent souls to guide aright. 
When they leave earth and take their flight 
To the fair Clime where is no night. 
When darkness veils your mortal sight. 
And Satan's imps shall crowd you tight, 
As on you speed with all your might, 
Oh ! may not Gabriel, in afifright. 
To Peter cry, "Blow out that light!" 



(4o) 



NEVER. 

Withered and fallen, can the leaves 

To life awake. 
Grow green again and on the boughs 

Their places take. 
And sport once more in the sunshine, 

And to the strains 
Of the light winds merrily dance, 

By summer rains 
Be refreshed, and, in thankfulness 

To the Giver 
Of life, their orisons repeat? 

Death says, "Never!" 

Can yesterday, with its bright morn 

And sparkling dew. 
Its glorious midday splendor 

And cloudless blue, 
Its calm afternoon, clear sunset. 

And soft twilight. 
Its pleasant breezes and fair moon. 

And starry night. 
Its happy birds and sweet blossoms. 

Return ever 
And its broken promises keep ? 

Time says, "Never!" 

Can )fouth, with its roseate dreams 

And buoyant hopes. 
Its proud, alluring ambition, 

That bravely copes 
With even the invincibles, 

Its lofty aims 



(41 ) 

And laudable aspirations, 

Its passion flames 
That light and warm hearts to union, 

Home ties sever. 
And join till death, to age come back? 

God says, "Is ever!" 



SWEET ALLIE. 

Could I call back some thirty years, 

Do you know what I'd do? 
I'd get aboard the fastest train 

And come right straight to you. 
I'd take in mine your little hand, 

And, falling on my knee. 
In trembling tones I'd try to tell 

How dear you are to me. 

But I was born too soon for you. 

And you too late for me ; 
So I can only wish that I 

Once more were young and free. 
Some other man will win your heart, 

And to whom is given 
The priceless jewel of your love 

This world will be a heaven. 

Let the Easter bells ring merrily ! 

But for me they ring in vain ; 
Youth's bright dreams are mine no longer ■ 

Never can I be young again. 
Strewn with flowers be your pathway ; 

But the lilies of the valley 
Are not purer and lovelier 

Than beautiful, dark-eved Allie. 



(42) 



" HADN'T OUGHTER." 

Before the glass stands lovely wife, 

Her mother's very daughter, 
And smilingly adjusts the lid — 

But she hadn't oughter. 

Behind her stands her hubby dear, 

Who spent his last quarter 
To liquidate millinery bill — 

But he hadn't oughter. 

The cherry lips beneath that roof 
jNIake his mouth fairly water ; 

He'll muss her hair in bearish hug — 
But he hadn't oughter. 

When she asks, "Is my hat on straight?" 

Knowing deceit caught her. 
The wily skunk will answer, "Yes" — • 

But he hadn't oughter. 

Hands in pockets, with suppressed sigh 
O'er bank account's slaughter, 

He grins at stupendous headgear — 
But he hadn't oughter. 

Prime cost ; license three, parson five ; 

Still, he's glad he bought her ; 
In spite of lid, he's proud he did — 

But he hadn't oughter. 

To wear peanuts, et cetera. 

Has foolish fashion taught her. 

And foot the bill till death he will — 
But he hadn't oughter. 



(43) 



YOUTH AND LOVE. 

The sunjight had more rays of gold, 
The cloudless sky a deeper bine, 

And shone at night more twinkling stars. 
When we were young, and I loved you. 

The song bird had a sweeter note, 

The flowers bloomed with lovelier hue, 

And leaves put on a richer green, 

W hen we were young, and I loved you. 

The streamlet had a merrier laugh, 
I\Iore dazzling was the sparkling dew, 

And softer was the zephyr's kiss. 

When we were young, and I loved you. 

In the Realm of youth eternal. 

Hearts parted here, tender and true, 
Shall meet again and happy be 

Forever young, and I'll love vou. 



DIFFERENT STYLES AND SIZES. 

Some women are large and obese, 

Others tall and skinny ; 
Admire I those of stature low. 

Well-formed as a guinea. 

Some are fiery and explosive 
As a dynamite cartridge ; 

But I love those of gentle heart 
And plump as a partridge. 



( 44 



PEACH CIDER. 

I used to wish that I were fruit, 

And Fate did oft beseech ' 

That I, like my httle sweetheart, 
Might be a lovely Peach. 

I longed from bough we might be plucked, 

And. being a " State-wider,"' 
Hoped close together we'd be pressed 

And both squeezed into cider. 

That sweet might we always remain 

I wanted us instanter, 
Securely corked and air-tight sealed 

Together in decanter. 

That flask I'd then put to my lips. 

Lest harm might betide her. 
And, like the snake that swallowed itself, 

I'd drink up all that cider. 



YOU AND I. 

If you were I and I were you, 
You'd do well to do as I do : 
But, if I were you and you were I, 
To do better than you do I would try. 
I'd rejoice with you. were you glad ; 
I'd strive to cheer you, were you sad ; 
Were you dead, I'd help bury you. 
And then — Mercv ! Ain't it hot? 



U5 ) 



NEXT. 

The shaved man arose from the chair. 

Carefully put on his specs, 
Viewed his image in the mirror, 

And the barber called out. "Next." 

The pitch slyly signaled the catch. 
Then curved the missile convexed ; 

The batter fanned the vacant air. 
And the umpire sang out. "' Next." 

The doctor sat in his office. 

Cunningly he'd given pretext 
To be humbugged every patient 

That entered, when cried out, "' Next." 

The lawyer pleaded with the jury, 
And his face his fears indexed. 

Lest they should convict his client. 
And the gallows be his next. 

The preacher stood in the pulpit. 

Solemnly he read his text 
To an audience who were sleeping 

Ere he passed from "first" to "next." 

Satan watched his ever-open gate. 
And he appeared almost vexed 

At the throng in squads crowding home 
As his porter bawled out. " Next." 

Peter flung wide open heaven's door. 

And he was sadly perplexed 
When he found not a soul waiting 

To enter, when he said, "Next." 



(46) 



PET XA^IES. 

Years ago, when a little boy, 

'Twas she his fancy singled; 
His childish heart was filled with joy, 

But fear with hope was mingled. 
Lest he might live to see the day 
When he to her no more could sa}' : 

"Darling little sweetheart." 

A few more years, he was a youth, 

A'er}- different and uncouth, 
Still to his little sweetheart true. 

No other love his young heart knew ; 
But he was jealous and in doubt. 
And feared he might go up the spout,- 

And, in spite of luck and pluck. 

Lose his ''little duckie duck.'' 

When he grew up to man's estate. 
And she became a woman grown, • 

He dared at last to test his fate. 
And promised she to be his own. 

He was happy then and very proud, 

And in his sky there was no cloud. 
For now he called his pet and pride: 
" My promised bonny little bride." 

They're married now, and he feels like 

A penitent sinner forgiven ; 
His heart beats high with hopes as bright 

As a roseate dream of heaven ; 
For she is now all his alone, 
And he calls her his very own 

" 'Ittle ootsie tootsie wootsie." 



( 47 ) 

The honeymoon will quickly wane, 
And then begin care and trouble, 

And he will sigh, but sigh in vain, 
That for life he's harnessed double; 

And though they have their little brawls, 

Still will he love her whom he calls 
" M}' dear little wifie pifie." 

The months go by, the years roll on. 
Bringing pleasures mixed with sadness; 

Their foolish hearts have wiser grown, 
And reason now governs madness. 

With sheepish look and henpecked laugh, 

He sweetl)' calls his better-half 
" ]\Iy old woman." 

Time flies fast awa_v, and old age 
Steals on them before they know it ; 

If in quarrels they now engage, 
To others they never show it ; 

Though of freedom he mourns the loss, 

He meeklv yields and dubs his boss : 
"My dad-blamed old squaw." 



AH-PE-LAH AND I-TOOK-A-SHOO. 

I hope you'll never lack for beaux; 

May Good Luck always follow 3'ou, 
As followed Cook the Eskimos, 

Ah-pe-lah and I-took-a-shoo. 

At the North Pole 'tis so windy 

That from the sky is blown the blue ; 

It blew Cook to Egesdeminde 

With Ah-pe-lah and I-took-a-shoo. 



U8) 



SUPPING AND SLIDING. 

As she slips, she slides along ; 
A trusty friend is hard to find. 

— Coleman Robertson. 

"As she slips, she slides along," whither, when, 

How, or why is beyond tlie ken of man. 

It may be down the broad, flowery way, 

Smooth-worn by the footsteps of pressing crowds 

On pleasure bent, or in the narrow path 

To the strait gate opening to happiness 

Eternal. It may he in the bright, glad 

Springtime, when with gorgeous, fragrant flowers 

The earth is ga_\ly decked, and the green woods 

Echo with melodies of forest songsters : 

Or when the genial summer revels 

In vegetation's luxuriant growth ; 

Or when comes the plenteous harvest time, 

And falls the many-tinted foliage 

Of autumn ; or when all things are wrapt 

In winter's spotless mantle, and softly 

The ice-chilled winds sing the sad requiem 

Of the departed year. It may be in youth. 

When with wild and vain hopes the heart beats high, 

And life is as a sweet dream; or in years 

More mature, when many cares and burdens 

The oft-tempted soul has known ; or when fast 

Ebbs the tide awaw and in the ripeness 

Of age to the great Unknown the frail bark 

Of human existence is swiftly drifting. 

It may be o'er trackless wastes fortuitous; 

Or along the trodden highway, well-timed 

And carefully chosen ; or among the poor. 



( 49 ) 

Where vice and squalor prevail ; or where wealth 

And fame reign supreme, and royal purple 

Lolls in sumptuous ease ; — but still remains 

The solemn truth : "As she slips, she slides along." 

Truly "a trusty friend is hard to find." 

Earth's greatest sage, with wisdom Heaven-inspired, 

Hath declared : " There is a friend that sticketh 

Closer than a brother " — not hard to find, 

Who in tender compassion lovingly 

Unto Himself all men would draw ; but, alas ! 

How often among associates here 

The heart finds a traitor to its confidence. 

Few are they to every trust always true. 

From bitter experience the poor soul 

Learns deception is oft the meed of faith, 

And, many times betrayed, at last accepts 

In sore disappointment the proven fact, 

Plain as a Gospel truth, 

"A trusty friend is hard to find." 



NO FU'THER. 

Will you be mine ?" she coyly cried, 

" I never loved another :" 
But smirked the skunk as he replied : 

" I'll always be your brother. 
Though I love you," he sadly sighed, 

" Oh, how I dread your mother ! 
By fate's decrees must we abide 

And our wild passion smother. 
Since, 'tween you two forced to decide, 

E'er would I choose the other ; 
And, lest my course you may deride, 

This thing must go no fu'ther." 



(50) 



THE DOG WAS DEAD. 

" I'se gwine off to make some money, 
So listen to me, my honey, 

Hear ebry word dat's sed : 
Don't you hab no carryin's on 
Wid udder fellers while I'se gone, 
Fur, if you duz, when I cums back 
F'um runnin' on de railroad track, 

De dawg will sho be dead." 

" Now, Frank, you knows dat I is true," 
Replied the girl of saffron hue. 
Whom soon he hoped to wed ; 
" While yuse porter on dat sleeper 
And habs to clean, dust and sweeper, 
H you goes roun' galavantin' 
An' udder girls a-gallantin', 
De dawg will sho be dead." 

Frank went away and flirted round 
With every likely maid he found. 

And a gay life he led. 
When she was left by the porter, 
Some one else began to court her ; 
He pressed his suit, and in the shade 
The absent lover soon was laid, 

And the dog was doubly dead. 

" Out of sight, out of mind," is true 
Of every girl of every hue. 

White, black, yellow, brown or red. 
If you go on a wild-goose chase, 
Some other man will take your place; 



(51) 

While 3'ou follow other pursuits. 
He'll lift you clean out of your boots, 
And the dog will be twice dead. 

Heed sound advice and never roam. 
And leave your girl alone at home 

A few tears for you to shed ; 
While you rest in a Pullman berth, 
Some shrewd fellow, knowing her worth, 
Will gain the prize, and in 'the cool 
Gently lay yo'u out, and a fool 

And the do? will both be dead. 



THE WELDED LINK. 

Not stronger than its weakest link 
Is the stoutest chain man can make ; 

The strain will find the weakest spot, 
And in that place will be the break. 

Habits are the links in the chain 
Of character; then with what care 

Should be forged the connected rings 
That must the strain of trials bear ! 

The broken promise can not be kept, 
Nor be recalled the wasted years ; 

Sullied honor can not be blanched, 
Though bathed with sad, remorseful tears. 

Ways may be changed and life reformed, 
But punishment follows broken law; 

Though mended be the parted chain, 
The welded link will show the flaw. 



(52) 



OUR FIRST PARENTS. 

Adam, the first man created, 

Like whom but one other, 
Melchisedec, King of Salem, 

Had no father or mother. 

God took the crookedest bone in man, 

A rib from Adam's side, 
And made it Eve, the first woman, 

To be the first man's bride. 

The Almighty, in their formation, 
Gave Woman the advantage — 

Made Adam of mud, Eve of bone; 
Hence Man can't Woman manage. 

No birthdajf had Adam or Eve ; 

Yet, since the primal fall. 
Must other folks have natal days 

Or never be born at all. 

Never went Adam a-courting 
Or sweetheart's father saw, 

The sole husband with no living 
Or dead mother-in-law. 

Never did he his wife abash 
Till tear-dimmed were her eyes. 

By praising his mother's cooking 
And bragging about her pies. 

Had Adam but to prune the trees, 
Not irksome were his labors ; 

He never paid a milliner's bill 
Or talked about his neighbors. 



(53) 

Happy were they in Paradise, 
Nor cared for rank or riches ; 

Followed Eve no fads or fashions, 
W'ore Adam fig-leaf breeches. 

But Satan came and tempted Eve, 
Well knowing woman's failings ; 

When God found out about the rumpus, 
He flung 'em over the palings. 

Thus happened it in Paradise, 

And so unto this day, 
Flirts a fellow with another's wife. 

The dickens is to pay. 

Had I been Adam in Eden, 
You may bet your sweet life, 

I wouldn't have stayed in the Garden 
When flung outside my wife. 



HE FLEWED. 

She stood alone in the parlor 

Where he had gently wooed. 
And in response to his pleading, 

"Yes," dove-like, she'd softly cooed, 
Whence in fear of the old man's boot 

Like a flash had he skiddooed, 
Because oft from the premises 

His coming had been tabooed. 
She heard the gate close with a bang. 

Then loudly she boo-hooed, 
While down the street like a scared pup 

Her fellow fairly flewed. 



( 54) 



ONLY A DREAiM. 

Backward runs now the flow of time, 

The tide ebbs tip the stream. 
And back to boyhood am I borne — 
, But onl}^ in a dream. 

I see again a Httle girl, 

My sweetheart true is she ; 
Into her eyes I fondly gaze. 

She sweetly smiles at me. 

Again I hear her gentle voice. 

As in the days of yore ; 
Comes back to me the fair, sweet face 

Of one I'll see no more. 

I walk again beside a maid, 

While shine the stars above her ; 

In mine I take her soft, warm hand 
And tell her that I love her. 

I see now a sweet young woman. 

Dearer to me than life ; 
Softly to me again she whispers : 

"I'll be your loving wife." 

Roseate her cheeks with blushes. 
Her eyes with love-light beam ; 

I press her to my heart once more 
And kiss her — in a dream. 

Time's swift current must onward flow, 
But hopeless the years now seem ; 

As vain to me was her pledged faith 
As the shadows of a dream. 



(55) 

Never can I be )-oung again. 
Or she broken vows redeem ; 

She made earth like Heaven to me ■ 
But onlv in a dream. 



LINES TO MARIE. 

With caressing tenderness God grant the years 
Alav touch your lovely form ; and, free from all fears. 
Deep may you drink from the fountain of love, 
And yours be the peace that cometh from above. 

On the beautiful face, where roses now sleep, 

May never a sorrow its furrows plow deep, 

Or any misfortune, as fly the years swift. 

Your shining hair challenge to shame the snowdrift. 

Till comes your summons to the home in the skies, 
E'er glad be your smiles and tearless your eyes; 
In wakefulness be your happiness complete, 
Calm be your slumbers and your dreams always sweet. 

From the course of duty may your bark ne'er drift. 
And every storm cloud have a silver-fringed rift, 
Where the glorious sun will brightly beam through, 
And you ever see heaven's own native blue. 

Should you ever meet the true prince of your life. 
And change the fair maiden to the winsome wife, 
Together may you walk in wedded wonder, 
And death alone loyal hearts put asunder. 

Peaceful be your voyage o'er Time's stormy sea 
To the ^Mystic Shore, where forever you'll be 
Safe from the trials of a world thunder-riven, 
And rest evermore in God's never-fading Heaven. 



(56) 



THE OLD WASHPOT. 

The days are long, 'tis summer time, 

Tlie weather's very hot, 
As I sit here and write in rhyme 

About the old washpot. 

Inverted and as black as night, 

With its legs to the skies. 
Anything but a pretty sight. 

It in the backyard lies. 

The washerwoman once a week, 

Regular as time goes. 
In June fair and December bleak. 

Boils in it the soiled clothes. 

\'\'hen earth in green is newly dressed, 

And life is full of hope, ' 
That vessel's into service pressed 

And used in making soap. 

When hog-killing time is at hand. 

And men porkers slaughter. 
Again that pot is in demand 

To heat scalding water. 

When has been trimmed the cut-up meat, 
Ere with salt it's rubbed hard. 

That unsightly washpot, scoured neat, 
Is used to cook the lard. 

If dependent on use is beauty. 

As many sages claim. 
That old washpot, plain and sooty, 

Is charminp- all the same. 



(57) 



NO ONE BUT YOU. 

I loved you in your glad childhood, 

While shone life's morning dew; 
And during all those happy days 

I loved no one but you. 

I loved you in your sweet girlhood. 

When life's spring skies were blue ; * 

While thrilled my soul with youth's bright hopes, 

I loved no one but you. 

I loved you in your womanhood, 

So gentle, kind and true; 
My heart was then all yours alone, 

I loved no one but you. 

I loved you in life's summer time — 

Naught could my love subdue; 
Though you were lost to me forever, 

I loved no one but you. 

I loved you in the autumn years. 

While changed the vernal hue; 
While faded gorgeous Frostland tints, 

I loved no one but you. 

I love you now in wintry age, 

The years left me are few ; 
But, till close life's fitful seasons, 

I'll love no one but you. 

I'll love you when I am dying. 

And, when I wake anew. 
Forever in the Hereafter, 

My Sweetheart, I'll love you. 



( 58) 



THE LILY CAKE. 

His countenance beamed with gladness, 
Though embarrassment made him quake, 

As a lovely woman approached 
W'ith a beautiful Lily cake. 

He was away from his kindred, 

And she on him did pity take, 
And, to cheer his drooping spirits, 

Made him a frosted Lily cake. 

He is fond of dainty viands 

And all the sweets good cooks can make ; 
And he smiles, and his mouth waters, 

When he beholds a Lily cake. 

He loves the girls to distraction. 

And oft his heart they almost break; 

But he wouldn't know how to court them. 
Were he stall-fed on Lily cake. 

He's too green to pop the question. 
Yet he'd die for his sweetheart's sake ;, 

He just can't tell her he loves her. 
But he can eat a Lily cake. 

He put some cake 'neath his pillow. 
And all night long he lay awake 

To dream of one with hazel eyes 
For him baking a Lily cake. 

May he grow wiser and bolder 

And single cussedness forsake. 
Cease to be an old bachelor. 

And feast for life on Lily cake. 



( 59 ) 



WOMAN'S YES AND NU. 

An artful wile is Woman's smile. 
Her giggle means not vc'^ ; 

Deceitful quirk is her sly smirk 
And brings man to distress. 



If she says no, then let her go. 

Her love no longer seek ; 
\\'ith foolish grin strive not to win, 
•But souse your head in tlie creek.- 

Better go down and quickly drown 

\\'ithout the world's applause, 
Than live in pain but to be slain 

At last by W^oman's jaws. 

She may seem sad when she is glad, 

As fickle mood may seize her : 
So with your might just grab her tight 
. And to your bosom sc[ueeze her. 

Though she wiggle and softly giggle 

As fondly she's caressed, 
^^'ith gentle sigh she'll sweetly lie 

Like lamb on lion's breast. 

\Mien AA'oman's dead and spirit's fled, 
And friends for her are grieving. 

On way in sky to world on high 
She'll still keep on deceiving. 

And wdien at la.st the Gate she's passed. 

On wings immortal flying. 
A\'here praise is sung with tireless tongue. 

For her will Man be sighing. 



(6o) 



SOMEWHERE. 

When earthly ties death shall sever, 

And end all pain and care, 
The soul redeemed will live forever 

In the glorious Somewhere. 

There is no night in that bright Home, 
And the day is always fair. 

And Jesus invites us to come 
To that glorious Somewhere. 

Mortal sight has ne'er been allowed 
To behold the beauties there, 

Celestial vision's undimmed by cloud 
In the glorious Somewhere. 

Time-tired spirits shall find release 
From burdens here they bear. 

And sweetly rest in lasting peace 
In God's glorious Somewhere. 



PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD. 
(Amos 4: 12.) 

Since life's a term of probation. 
And death's way must be trod. 

How important the injunction, 
"Prepare to meet thy God"! 

Savior, help each, when Thou askest, 
"More than these lovest thou me?" 

To say, as did Peter aggrieved, 
"Thou knowest I love thee." 



(6i) 

Faithful be we unto the close, 

When, in shadowy twilight, 
To the unending Forever 

The spirit wings its flight. 

On each headstone be it engraved 

When from earth the soul has passed: 
" God, in the molds of creation, 
A nobler being never cast." 



THE BENT TWIG. 

Just as the twig is bent. 
The tree will be inclined ; 

And as the child is reared, 
The adult others find. 

Some people are so straight 

They don't know they lean back, 

And in self -righteousness 

Have missed the narrow track. 

Of rank hypocrisy 

So stooped are they by load. 
Many have suspected 

They never saw the road. 

Seem so afraid some men 

That do some wrong they might, 
In shunning what is evil 

Avoid they what is right. 

Train up the child to go 

The right way from the start. 

And in the after years 
From it he'll not depart. 



(62) 



THE LITTLE HATCHET. 

George \\'ashington couldn't tell a lie, 

Though he feared he'd catch it, 
When he cut down that cherry tree 

With his little hatchet. 

Carrie Nation fought the saloon. 

Tried hard to dispatch it. 
Smashed bottles, jugs, and barrels 

With her little hatchet. 

Never animal had a weapon 

But man has sought to match it ; 

His primal implement a club. 
The bird's is a hatch it. 

The hen sits on a batch of eggs. 

And then she has to scratch it, 
When chicks come out from shells she breaks 

^^'ith her little hatch it. 



BLUE OR BROWN? 

You'll not believe what I may say. 

Perhaps displeased on me you'll frown; 

But I've been true to eyes of gray 
When looked I into eyes of brown. 

Dear sweetheart, truly I love you, 

And, though the heavens should tumble down. 
Will I be true to eyes of blue, 

Though look I into eyes of brown. 



(63) 



"I \\'ILL RUN TO MEET YOU." 

" When I am 3'ours, and _vou come home 
From your day's work, I'll greet you 
With loving heart and welcome smile, 
And I will run to meet you." 

But I've come home for many years 
WHien hard the world would treat me, 

And in my sadness longed in tears 
For \oii to run to meet me. 

Alone must I life's battles fight. 

And foes may oft defeat me; 
Yet I shall hear no words of cheer, 

For you'll ne'er run to meet me. 

When the Death Angel calls us hence, 

If I Up There shall beat you. 
When you come Home from your life's work. 

Then will I fly to meet you. 



TO WOMAN. . 

Hadst thou ten thousand thousand charms. 

All ablaze in full maturity, 
I'd love thee for thine innocence alone. 

Thy sweet womanly purity. 

I'd love thee for thy stainless virtue. 
Unsullied as spotless snow of pole ; 

For modest, invincible chastity 

Is the priceless gem of Woman's soul. 



(64) 



MODERN BEATITUDES. 

Blessed is the baby that never has the colic; 
Blessed is the child that likes to play and frolic; 
Blessed is the boy that often laughs and "hollers"; 
Blessed is the girl whose daddy has the dollars; 
Blessed is the lover too bashful to tell her; 
Blessed is the sweetheart that weds the other fellow; 
Blessed is the bachelor that never drinks or gambles; 
Blessed is the old maid that puts him in the shambles ; 
Blessed is the man that never scolds or cusses; 
Blessed is the woman that never sulks or fusses; 
Blessed is the husband whose wife is never cross; 
Blessed is the wife whose husband is the boss; 
Blessed is the widower that doesn't want to wed; 
Blessed is the widow that's glad her hubby's dead; 
Blessed are the old, and blessed are the young; 
Blessed are the people that never get stung; 
Blessed are the living, though they toil and sweat; 
Blessed are the dead whom Satan didn't get. 



FLEETA. 



Many girls are mighty sweet, 
And many others sweeter ; 

But the sweetest girl of all 
Is fair and winsome Electa. 

She is queenly and slender 
And of captivating mien, 

And a girl more bewitching 
By lover was never seen. 



(65 ) 



How graceful are her movements 
To music's strains entrancing ! 

Fairy-like, she seems to float 
About the room when dancing-. 



You may search the wide world o'er, 
But none you'll find can beat her, 

For the finest girl of all 
Is sweet and lovely Fleeta. 

Had young men any judgment 

Or ambitious aim in life. 
Some one would die or win her 

For his precious, noble wife. 

That she's true as she is sweet 
Believe all those that meet her, 

And there'll never be on earth 
A sweeter girl than Fleeta. 



THE SPRITE. 

One summer night a little Sprite, 

Witch-like, astride the broom. 
Went soaring high toward the sky 

To ask the Moon her doom. 
Fair Luna smiled and said : " My child, 

You needn't come to me ; 
Your fate is sealed and you must yield - 

Your doom is lo-i-c, 
Where a bright lad, just like his dad, 

Will carry you away ; 
And he'll be glad, when you're not mad. 

He won the winsome Fay. 



(66) 



BOW AND STRING. 

The bow is the source of power, 

But by the string the bow's held bent ; 
AppHed through string force to arrow 

Whizzing swiftly to target sent. 
Too strong the bow, the weak cord breaks ; 

Tension released, springs the bow back ; 
Taut string too strong weak the bow makes. 

And snap will bow or badly crack : 
Apart or joined, like bone without marrow. 

Useless both without the arrow. 
Freaks curious in flora grow. 

In fauna strange many a thing; 
The Old Bachelor's a stringless beau, 

And the Old Maid a beauless string. 



CREATION. 

When, according to Divine plan, 
God decided to make the human. 

Of the dust of earth made Ele man, 
And of man's rib formed He woman. 

Only men go to scorching Limbo, 

That sulphurous clime of din and strife. 

For man there well does the Deity know 
Would be happy with a charming wife. 

The gate is kept under guard and lock, 
And the key to Satan is given, 

Or man to flinders the gates would knock 
And skedaddle to woman in Heaven. 



(.67) 



BILLIE. 

As goes away the night 

And comes the morning light, 

Be the weather warm or chilly. 
Like a horn tooted loud 
Is heard the crowing proud 

Of the little Bantam Billie. 

A gallant bird is he. 
As handsome as can be, 

With plumage white as a lily ; 
And, happy all day long. 
His daring rooster song 

Crows the plucky Bantam Billie. 

He's not afraid of any, 

But fights battles many. 
And the whipped look very silly; 

He is beaten by none, 

But all the others run 
From brave little Bantam Billie. 

Bugs and worms he catches 

Where the ground he scratches. 
Whether it's level or hilly; 

And with his little wife 

He lives a happy life, 
Spunky little Bantam Billie. 

Watchful eve and morning, 
Of harm gives he warning 

To his chicks and Lady Millie ; 
Being fearless and wise. 
May he live till he dies, 

The gay little Bantam Billie. 



(58) 



SQUEEZING THE DOLLAR. 

No matter what man may follow 

In the busy marts of life. 
He that squeezes tight the dollar 

Seldom squeezes tight his wife. 

Obeyed all men natural law, 
Which surplus force conserves, 

Then might receive each blessed squaw 
The pressure she deserves. 



MARTHA. 
(To Her Mother.) 

Into the Garden of Womanhood, 

Where flowers grow in bright array, 

Silently came the Reaper grim 
And took the sweetest away. 

The days glide by, still dost thou weep, 

Disconsolate in thy gloom. 
For the flower that opened to life 

But to be plucked in early bloom. 

The Reaper was a messenger 

By the Blessed Master sent 
To reclaim the lovely flower 

In His goodness to thee lent. 



(69) 

Grieve not for the flower taken 
Where the spirit knows not care ; 

While thou dost here in anguish mourn, 
The sweet blossom's safe Up There. 

Mayest thou, triumphant in death, 
By faith the Glory World see, 

And exclaim with thy latest breath : 
"Lord Jesus, I come to Thee." 



DRIFTING AWAY. 

To me the night is starless, 
And sunless seems the day, 

When Silence whispers from me, 
Thoii art drifting away. 

From me, till comes the sunset. 

Most earnestly I pray 
Thou, in thy youth and beauty 

Shalt never drift away. 

Till meet we in Forever, 

Kind thoughts of me e'er stay 

Welcome in thy memory 
And never drift away. 

Though time parts truest hearts 
When they the death-debt pay, 

On the tide of Hereafter 
We'll never drift away. 



(70) 



NOT MADE WITH HUMAN HANDS. 

There's a house of many mansions, 

Where mortal being never trod, 
'Mid the glories of the Spirit World, 

In the New Jerusalem of God; 
There the Tree of Life is -blooniing. 

There flows the Beautiful River, 
And there mayest thou, summoned hence, 

With thy loved ones rest forever. 



IN A COTTAGE. 

Some, Esau-like, sell their birthright 

For a mess of pottage. 
And choose a life of selfish ease 

To love in a cottage. 

Vain are wealth and earthly honors 

To the surfeited heart, 
When indulgence cloys enjoyment, 

And illusive hopes depart. 

The humble home is a palace. 
Though bare are walls and floor. 

When love leaves not by the window 
When penury knocks at the door. 

Better a life of usefulness. 
From worldly applause free, 

With faith, and peace, and contentment, 
Though the home a cottage be. 



(71 ) 



THE OLD MULBERRY TREE. 

Rugged, and gnarled, and twisted, and broken, and old. 
You have stood the fierce heat and braved the bitter 

cold; 
Your boughs have gently swayed when the soft zephyrs 

blow, 
And oft to the storm winds your giant form's bent low. 

Your wide-spreading branches once cast a pleasant 

shade. 
Where in happy childhood with care-free heart I 

played ; 
But many years ago rejoiced we in our prime. 
And bear our bodies now the cruel scars of time. 

Ere long we'll pass away, and forgotten we'll be, 
For then will no one here remember you or me; 
Dead, you'll molder back to insensible clay, 
But my soul will exist when the heavens fade away. 

If the things of this world can be recalled ever 
When Charon's rowed me o'er the Stygian River, 
Dear old Tree, though I bid you forever adieu. 
In the glorious Somewhere I'll sometimes think of you. 



RIDDLE. 



What it may be I dare not say, 
Lest vanish modesty, like a rocket ; 

But spendthrift Poverty flings away 
What hoarding Wealth puts in pocket. 



(72) 



RECOLLECTIONS. 

I remember the very day 

And month and year when I was born ; 
I hear again the plow-mule's bray 

When tooted was the dinner horn, 
And weary niggers singing gay, 

Coming from fields of cotton and cori;, 
Stinging memories remain with me, 

Burning sensations, and I wonder 
How oft with sprout of the peach tree 

My mother walloped me like thunder ; 
And my kind Pap with leather strap, 

Having laid me across his knee. 
With swift stitches patched my breeches 

With needle sting of a bumblebee. 



H ALLEY'S COMET. 

Have been superstitious in distress 
Concerning transit of Halley's comet. 

Ignorant naught that blaze, more or less. 
Than tramp-like spirit of Mahomet. 

Slammed hard the Gate Peter in face 
Of Impostor soul Earth did vomit ; 

And, flung thence into boundless space, 
Sped Islam Sire as Halley's comet. 

Satan, dominant in the Nether World, 
Fast barred false Prophet from it; 

In orbit elliptic, headlong hurled, 

Whirls Koran Author as Halley's comet. 



('73) 

Seized the unthinking with dire fright, 
With foohsh terror their hearts quail, 

As whirls our Sphere in rapid flight 
Through subtle gases of comet's tail. 

^^'ould that forever to mortal eyes, 
W'hen with life limit my years tally, 

With luster bright in cloudless skies 

Might shine my "tale" like comet of Halley. 



ELIZABETH. 

In rapture I on thy sweet face 
Look in weird realm of dream, 

And gaze into thy glorious eyes, 
Where brightly love-fires beam, 
Elizabeth. 

Whispered thy name by the zephyrs 

In soft accents to me. 
And to my heart the happy birds 

In glad notes sing of thee, 
Elizabeth. 

Should I fail and never win thee 
For -my sweet, bonny bride, 

Bright no more would be the sunshine, 
Or hope with me abide, 
Elizabeth. 

The light of my life would go out, 
Become would day as night, 

And on gravestones of broken vows 
In hopeless grief I'd write : 
"Elizabeth." 



(74) 



WAITING FOR ME. 

Furled in defeat the Stars and Bars, 
The doomed Lost Cause could not be free; 

The gallant men who wore the gray 
Over the river are waiting for me. 

Brave soldiers that fought with Stonewall, 

Or followed the immortal Lee, 
Or charged with the Wizard of the Saddle, 

In Valhalla are waiting for me. 

Boom of cannon no more I'll hear. 
Nor smoke-cloud of battle I'll see, 

But rest with Southern heroes fallen, 
Beyond the stars waiting for me. 

I've heard beat the last tap of drum, 

And bugle sound last reveille ; 
Soon last soldier boy'll join comrades 

In fadeless glory waiting for me. 



YOUR WEDDING NIGHT. 

Daylight is gone, twilight comes on. 

The stars are shining bright. 
On your dear hand the golden band 

Some one will place to-night. 
No more we'll meet and fondly greet 

With fancy free in life; 
To-night you take the vows that make 

You some one's darling wife. 



(75) 

But brighter still tlie hopes that thrill 

Your being with delight 
Than daylight's beam or stars that gleam 

On this, your wedding night. 
May you and he true lovers be 

As long as you both live. 
And ever know with hearts aglow 

All joys pure love can give. 

The fleeting years bring hopes and fears 

To all of us on earth ; 
The good and bad, the gay and sad 

Are mingled from our birth ; 
Yet on us all God's blessings fall. 

On rich and poor the same ; 
Be a true wife while lasts your life, 

Then heaven you shall claim. 



SOLVING THE DILEMMA. 

Mary had a little lamb. 

She stood it on a shelf. 
And every time it wagged its tail 

It spanked its little self. 

Mary wouldn't sell her little sheep 
For the world's paltry pelf, 

And she nearly cried her eyes out 
When it spanked its little self. 

Like an inspiration came the thought 

To the weeping little elf: 
Just cut the lamb's spanker off, 

Then it can't spank itself. 



(76) 



GRANDPA. 

You've seen the flight of many years, 
Your morn dawned long ago ; 

Now in white hairs, with no sad tears, 
You watch the sunset glow. 

Your life has been an open book, 

No stains its pages mar; 
Back on the past with pride you look, 

You've left no gates ajar. 

On fertile ground good seed you've sown 

And toiled in sun and rain ; 
In honored age behold your own, 

The garnered golden grain. 

To others you've a blessing been, 
The world you've better made. 

And earned a home unknown to sin, 
^^^^ere casts not death its shade. 

That crown immortal you shall wear 

For which you long have striven ; 
Fast onward you the billows bear, 
And you are nearing Heaven. 

Where blossoms Life's unfading tree, 

Beyond time's surging tide, 
And blessed e'er the just shall be. 

May your grand soul abide. 



(77) 



THE TINY BLUE PENCIL. 

I've kept it nearly thirty years, 

That tiny pencil blue ; 
'Tis one of my treasured souvenirs, 

For 'tis a gift from you. 

Fondest memories in my heart 

Sweetly does it awake, 
And, though we've drifted far apart, 

'Tis prized for your sweet sake. 

Many lines did your little hand 

With that wee pencil trace : 
They tell of friendship true and grand 

That time can ne'er erase. 

To that dear hand my lips I've pressed 

In the years long since fled. 
And prayed that you might e'er be blest. 

Nor tears of grief e'er shed. 

'Tis many years since last we met, 
And we shall meet no more ; 

But not on earth shall I forget 
My sweet little friend of A-ore. 

Dear little friend, near me lying 

Is a tiny pencil blue ; 
I'll cherish it when I'm dying 

Because 'tis a gift from you. 



(78) 



MY FOUR LITTLE SCAMPS. 

When came to me, in years gone by, 
A jewel bearing Heaven's stamp, 

My heart rejoiced as I looked on 
Each beautiful little scamp. 

During the time they've been with me, 
Wherever I've pitched my camps, 

I've smiled their happiness to see 
And loved my four little scamps. 

The dark clouds are over me now. 
Soon must I, like earth-tired tramps, 

To the mighty King of Shadows bow 
And leave my four little scamps. 

When, at the close of my life's day. 
The Death Angel lights the lamps. 

With my dying breath I will pray: 
" God bless my four little scamps." 



NOT FOR SALE. 

0>uld money buy women like you, 

My dear, sweet, noble cousin, 
I'd borrow, beg, or steal the cash 

And buy at least a dozen ; 
And if by death they should be called 

To the Mystic Golden Shore, 
I'd rob to get the spondulix 

To buy a dozen more. 



(79) 



MY IDEAL. 

Vanished have life's midday glories, 
And halo of memory's glow 

Shines but on fanciful pictures 
Of the dead sweet long ago. 

You were my ideal sweetheart, 

The dearest I ever knew, 
And, when together we were young. 

My first love I gave to you. 

To me seemed you like an angel, 

Pure as the sparkling dew, 
And in the madness of youth's passion 

I blindly worshiped you. 

Sadly I've learned that perfection 
Belongs not to what's human ; 

Though seemed my ideal an angel, 
She was — only a woman. 



LITTLE RUTH. 

When spring flowers are blooming. 

And summer breezes are blowing. 
And autumn leaves red are turning, 

And winter snows are falling. 
Glad be the days of her childhood. 

Joyous the )'ears of her youth. 
In womanhood and old age, 

Ever happy be little Ruth. 



(8o) 



MASHING. 

Adown the street with queenly grace 
Walked a maiden sweet and fair ; 

A Jumbo lid concealed her face, 
But I knew she was under there. 

" Come right out from under tl:at hat,'-' 
I cried aloud in fear ; 
She softly said, "I can't do that. 
But you come under here." 

Under I went quick as a flash, 
Then happened something queer; 

That maiden made an awful mash 
Hidden by that headgear. 



MY TWO SWEETHEARTS. 

I love my two dear old sweethearts, 
For they are kind and true; 

The one has dark and melting eyes, 
The other eyes of blue. 

When I look on the angel face 

Of my precious mother, 
I feel that I so well ne'er can 

Ever love another. 

Then on my noble father's face 
My tender gaze will fall. 

And to him in my heart I say : 
"I love vou best of all." 



(8i) 

In devotion 'tis impossible 

Dividing line to strike, 
For I am sure deep in my soul 

I love them just alike. 

Yes, fondly I my sweethearts love. 
And each my heart can claim ; 

I love mother, I love father — 
I love them both the same. 



WOMAN. 
Hbr Whichness, Whenceness, and Whitherness. 

Who is Woman? Knows not better 

Philosopher than muckraker. 
To God would she a paradox be. 

Were He not her Omniscient Maker. 

What is Woman ? Ask Jehovah. 

Comprehends not mortal blindness ; 
But appears she the quintessence 

Of purity and sweet kindness. 

^Vhence came Woman ? For mind finite 

To understand it is not given ; 
Fresh seems she from realm of seraph. 

Where of loveliness robbed she Heaven. 

Whither goes Woman ? 'Tis unknown ; 

But, changes not death nature human, 
In the Hereafter, spirit of Man. 

Immortal, will still love Woman. 
6 



(82) 



ANOTHER'S. 

Were I younger by thirty years, 
In spite of all my doubts and fears^ 
Surely as the stars in heaven shine, 
I'd claim you for my Valentine. 

No doubt my fate could only be 
That I again should live to see 
The one I loved with passion divine 
Become another's Valentine. 



THE DOCTOR. 

When we of suffering loudly complain, 
And wearily languish on beds of pain, 
Whether day or night, in svmshine or rain. 
Whose aid do we seek, yet never in vain ? 
The doctor's. 

Who cures hurts and aches and sets broken bones, 
Quiets peevish moans and querulous groans, 
No patient neglects or duty postpones, 
And kindly responds to petulant tones? 
The doctor. 

Who's roundly abused for moderate bill 
For restoring to health those who are ill. 
And by his knowledge and medical skill 
Cheating the devil of what's due him still? 
The doctor. 



(83) 

When cold and rigid in death his form Hes, 
And friends keep vigil with sorrowful eyes, 
While angels beckon to rest in the skies, 
Whose spirit released to Heaven straight flies ? 
The doctor's. 

For whom does Peter the door open wide 
To abundant entrance where no ills betide, 
To reap the reward of the true and tried 
And with the redeemed forever abide? 
The doctor. 



WHO'S KISSING HER NOW? 

'Tis many years since last we met. 

And we'll not meet again; 
But in those happy days, you bet, 

I knew who kissed her then. 

We pledged our lives to each other. 
But broken that solemn vow, 

And I don't care a continental 
Who is kissing her now. 

I wonder how a fellow feels. 

Aware that he has missed 
The sweetness of stale lips from which 

Another the freshness kissed. 

Sour grapes and lees and warmed-overs 

Exclude I from my list. 
For lost to me the thrilling touch 

Of lips another's kissed. 



(84) 



THE FLOWERET. 

An angel came for tlie iloweret 
In life's early morning gray, 

A blossom look with earth-dew wet 
To wreathe in the Lord's bouquet. 

Inspiring hope to heart afraid, 

liy the Redeemer given. 
The blossom plucked will never fade 

In sinless clime of Heaven. 

Sweetly trust in God's providence; 

The floweret so dear, 
In angel arms safe taken hence, 

Will sainted mothers rear. 



ON THE OTHER SIDE OF JORDAN. 

We sow our wild oats, we scatter them wide ; 
We scofT at the wise, their counsel deride ; 
We act our own way, obey naught commanded; 
Then we think it strange that we have landed 
On the other side of Jordan. 

We wallow in dust, we dabble in mire ; 
We walk on the ice, we play with the fire ; 
To reap what we sow we're not content. 
But claim we are wronged when finally sent 
On the cither side of Tordan. 



(85) 

In a cause unjust we often enlist; 
'I'lie tail of danger we foolislily twist; 
And find, when its heels in sport we tickle, 
W'e are fit for naught hut cymling ])ickle 
( )n the other side of Jordan. 

'I'he rights of others we little respect. 
When our own inlcrests those rights affect; 
But bid them go where the whangdoodlc iiineth, 
And seek redress where the woodbine twineth 
( )n the other side f)f Jordan, 

Some day we shall go, change we not our way, 
Improve our conduct, more wisdom display, 
And carefully mind what we are about. 
Where the sulphurous flames never burn out 
On the other side of Jordan. 



'TIS DONE. 

'Tis finished, and I'm done. Ring down the curtain 

On the fearful tragedy, "It IMight Tiave iJccn." 

Extinguish the lights, for the play is over ; 

The seats are vacant, the theater empty; 

Shut tight the door and bar it fast; in vain pomp 

On life's deserted stage will strut no more 

The sorry actor. Even in the ceaseless 

Rotations of the Forever no power 

Can change the end. Read no more; close the book. 

For the pages are dyed crimson with the blood 

Of cruelly-murdered happiness, than which 

The red life current of the body stains not 

A deeper hue ! 



(86) 



MY BEST GIRL. 

There is a girl that takes my eye, 

Than whom none is greater ; 
I love her more than punkin pie 

Or 'possum baked with 'tater. 
Yes, she's the girl that I adore, 

She all the rest surpasses ; 
And you may bet I love her more 

Than turnip greens and 'lasses. 



GONE. 



Death has visited us at last. 

And we in anguish groan; 
A soul from earth to Heaven has passed, 

For God has claimed his own. 

Softly to-night are the words spoken. 
Lightly do the watchers tread. 

For the family circle is broken. 
And our sweet mother is dead. 

Her spirit has from this world gone 
Where ties are severed never, 

Yet in our hearts will she live on 
Till we, too, cross the river. 

We know things mortal must decay 

And molder back to dust, 
And though to us sad is the day. 

In God will we still trust. 



(87) 

Sweetly may we, when open wide 
The arms of death to seize us, 

Like children tired at eventide. 
Then fall asleep in Jesus. 

Blessed is he that receiveth 

To death Christ's bold defy: 
' He that liveth and believeth 
, In me shall never die." 



BRYAN. 



Hurrah for Bryan, 

The proud scion 
Of the grand old Democracy ! 

Gallantl}' he fights 

For the people's rights 
Against the proud Plutocracy. 

But I must proclaim 

'Tis a rotten shame, 
And things have come to a pretty pass, 

When, of honors shorn, 

His picture is worn 
On the breast of a Texas ass. 

The poor pup may howl, 

Whine, yelp, snarl and growl. 
And the bird on the post may sing; 

But Taft will wonder 

How in the thunder 
Bryan smashed the Republican ring. 



(88) 



WHERE YOU ARE. 

In the fair skies of true womanhood 

Are you a shining star ; 
And ever will you, noble and good, 

Remain right where you are. 

Under a bushel hide not your light, 

But let it shine afar, 
That others by you guided aright 

May find peace where you are. 

Yet would it lessen your happiness 

Or your effulgence mar. 
To visit the sick and suffering 

And stay not where you are ? 



WITHERED LEAVES. 

When ?Iis servants the Lord commands 
To bring the golden sheaves, 

Shall we take him in idle hands 
Nothing but withered leaves? 

Unto the harvest fields now white 

He sends the toilers few : 
Let ns perform with all our might 

What our hands find to do. 

E'er should we let so shine our light 

Others may plainly see 
The path of peace to tread aright 

And to Him guided be. 



(89) 

We should labor early and late 
To bring our Master gain, 

And strive to enter the strait gate, 
Bearing the garnered grain. 

Wben's settled the final account. 
And each his dues receives, 

Shall our credit on the amount 
Be naught but withered leaves? 



COUSIN KATE. 

Her rich gifts and accomplishments 

Did others fascinate ; 
A graceful, gracious young woman 

Was charming Cousin Kate. 

I knew her when for her bright smile 

Did many lovers wait. 
Ere she became a winsome bride. 

Beautiful Cousin Kate. 

Fortunate was the happy man 

Whom favored a kind fate^ 
Who proudly claimed the heart and hand 

Of lovely Cousin Kate. 

I've known the true and met the brave, 
And seen the wise and great, 

But God ne'er made a nobler soul 
Than my sweet Cousin Kate. 

When leaves this world her spirit pure, 
May open wide Heaven's gate, 

And blessed angels welcome home 
My sainted Cousin Kate. 



(90) 



FOREVER. 

The meteor shoots athwart the skies, 
The lightning flashes ever 

In blinding glare to mortal eyes, 
And then go out forever. 

The apparently tiny star 

With brilliance blazes never ; 

In radiance soft time does not mar, 
It twinkles on forever. 

Noisy the shallow brook in glen, 

Silent the flowing river; 
To fame are strangers noble men 

Whose deeds will live forever. 



NORA BELLE. 

Backward I turn memory's pages, 
And sad the story they tell, 

How like bright dream into my life 
Came precious Nora Belle. 

And how on me in dark despair 

The crushing sorrow fell, 
When in hopeless disappointment 

I lost sweet Nora Belle. 

When on last page finis is written. 

And time I bid farewell, 
My last pure thought, when I'm dying, 

Will be of Nora Belle. 



(91) 

If perish not recall of earth 
In Lethe's raging swell, 

I'll not forget in the Hereafter 
My promised Nora Belle. 

We are told there is no sorrow 
Where blessed angels dwell, 

Yet methinks I'll sigh in Heaven 
For mv lost Nora Belle. 



THE SUMMONS. 

Fitting, as sets the Lord's Day sun 
And the shadows of twilight fall. 

Finished thy course, thy life work done. 
To thee should come the Master's call. 

Thou hast obeyed, and not again 
Will mortal sight thy form behold ; 

But e'er in memory thou'lt remain 
The same sweet friend thou wast of old. 

Thy ministering presence no more 
Will the sick and suffering cheer, 

Or hearts despondent, bruised and sore 
Thy hopeful words of comfort hear. 

In sorrow loved ones weep for thee. 
And thy departure friends bemoan ; 

Yet not grief-stricken bereft should be 
When to Heaven God calls His own. 

Never blossomed in bright sunshine 

A lovelier and purer flower, 
Transplanted now to Kingdom Divine, 

Where is the glory and the power. 



(92) 



THE OLD MAID. 

On her the holy angels smile, 

Of her the demons are afraid. 
To her men all deference show, 

For she is a blessed old maid. 

Old and young alike adore her, 

Beast and bird her footsteps attend, 

The sad are cheered by her coming, 
To the wayward she is a friend. 

She visits the sick and suffering, 
To the famishing she gives bread, 

Soothes the pillow of the dying. 
And vigil keeps beside the dead. 

Married women may each other 

Snub and hate, their husband's upbraid. 

And gossip about their neighbors; 

But they all praise the sweet old maid. 

Happy old- maid ! Were she to wed, 

As sure as heaven is above her. 
She'd lose at least one admirer, 

And one man would cease to love her. 

In the Millennium will come 

That peace for which man long has prayed, 
For every woman on earth then 

Will be an angelic old maid. 

Men will respect and honor her 

Till from the skies the planets fade; 

She, a guardian angel here, 

There will be a sainted old maid. 



(93) 



ROMULUS. 

Romulus is an Embden gander, 

His plumage is snowy white ; 
To his whims the other fowls pander. 

And he rules with kingly might. 

By their loud cackling geese once saved Rome, 

If they've done nothing grander; 
For the founder, who made it his home. 

Was named this Embden gander. 

Though he's a vaunting, cowardly bluff. 

The others fear his dander; 
From morning till night his craw he'll stuff, 

This greedy Embden gander. 

Remus, his boon companion and friend, 

Recently met sudden death ; 
Heart failure to his life put an end, 

And he died for lack of breath. 

Romulus is now left all alone 

To grieve with goosey candor, 
For since his goslinghood no chum he's known, 

Save that lone brother gander. 

Yet Romulus is a cracker- jack, 

Moved not by praise or slander, 
And he bosses the whole backyard pack. 

Does this vain Embden gander. 

When Romulus has lived out his life. 

And his lordly sway shall cease, 
May he fly from all anserine strife 

To the heaven of Embden geese. 



(94) 



THE LAND OF TO-MORROW. 

There shall we be free from pain, 
And our hearts know not sorrow ; 

For gladness will forever reign 
In the Land of To-morrow. 

From the Past let not To-day 
Sadness or trouble borrow ; 

Will be ours for what we pray 
In the Land of To-morrow. 



TO MAY. 



I never saw or more admired 
A girl more pure and sweet 

Than thou, who hast my heart inspired 
Life's noblest aims to meet. 

I know thy heart is true and warm. 
And thou wouldst e'er disdain 

To use thy power but to charm. 
And cause thy lover pain. 

When I look on thy fair, sweet face 

And with thee am alone, 
I long to clasp thee in embrace 

And claim thee as my own. 

And in my sleep I think of thee, 

And 'mid the flowers gay 
Of Dreamland fields in visions free 

I rove with thee, sweet May. 



(95) 

Some day thou'lt be another's wife, 

And happy wilt thou be, 
And thou'lt ne'er think of my sad life 

And how I sigh for thee. 

Oh, may thy life be free from care, 
And joy and peace be thine ! 

But I must live in dark despair. 
For thou canst ne'er be mine. 



THE LAST WORD. 

In grave unmarked lies many a man 
Whose praise the world has never sung, 

Who might have reached the heights of fame. 
Born with but half his mother's tongue. 

A stammering woman never lived 
With jaws on tetanus hinges hung; 

They're placed, like fore wheels of vehicle. 
On each side of a waggin' (wagon) tongue. 

Claims woman the prerogative 

At man the final shot to make ; 
'Tis vain for him to make retort, 

Meekly must he the last word take. 

Inherited man his mother's gab, 

In death he'd lie, still, cold and clammy. 

Ere dumb as oyster he would be 
Before woman glib as her mammy. 



'(96) 



TO THEE. 

When happy birds carol their songs of love, 
And budding are flower and tree, 

And pleasant south winds softly are blowing, 
May the hours be sweet to thee. 

When nature revels in rank vegetation,, 

And cloudless the skies shall be, 
And fruit gleams luscious 'mid foliage green. 

May the hours be sweet to thee. 

When robed is forest in many-tinted hues. 

And golden are field and lea. 
And the voice of breeze is requiem chant. 

May- the hours be sweet to thee. 

When clothed is the earth in mantle of white, 
And reigns Frost King o'er land and sea. 

Though short is the day and long is the night, 
May the hours be sweet to thee. 

Till from its tenement of flesh and blood 

Thy spirit shall be free. 
May the smiles of God on thee ever rest. 

And life be sweet to thee. 

When thou hast finished thy pilgrimage here 

And the last sunset shalt see. 
May Guardian Angels bring the Master's call. 

And death be sweet to thee. 

• 



(97) 



TOBACCO. 

For many years I've been thy slave, 

But now thy sway is o'er ; 
I'll break the chains I helped thee forge. 

And thee I'll serve no more. 

How costly hast thou been to me ! 

What sums for thee I've paid ! 
Yet thou hast never brought me gain 

Or for me one cent made. 

How useless hast thou ever been ! 

What good has followed thee? 
Thou hast not cured when I've been sick, 

But sick hast thou made me. 

How filthy is thy costly use ! 

It dulled my self-respect, 
Made me selfish and less polite. 

And social rights neglect. 

How injurious is thy use! 

My body it abused, 
Weakened my nervous energy, 

And oft my mind confused. 

Costly, useless, filthy, harmful ! 

To thee no more I'll bow ; 
Thou'lt not again my master be — 

I quit thy use right now. 



(98) 



ACROSTIC. 

No one can love you as I do 

Or be as true, no, never ; 
Repeat this, love's dying echo. 

And seal my vow forever. 

Oh ! who can tell the love so true 
Which Cupid's dart has given? 

Each moment beats my heart for you, 
Nor will it cease in heaven. 



NONIE BELLE. 

The sun ne'er kissed with golden beam, 

The night baptized with dew, 
Or zephyrs waked from pleasant dream, 

A fairer rose than you. 

To shame your voice puts sound of lute. 

The sweetest ever made; 
'Tis soft as dulcet note of flute 

By lips of lover played. 

How softly beam your glorious eyes. 

Where burns the warm love-light! 
As calmly shine in cloudless skies 

The silent stars of night. 

For poorer meed than your bright glance 

Have men in combat striven ; 
To gain your smile might knight prove lance- 

To win you would be Heaven. 



(99) 

As true your heart as you are fair, 
Your life as pure and sweet; 

May angels guard with zealous care 
The paths where tread your feet. 

Your plaudit be, when sets life's sun 
And death's dark shadows fall: 
" Chastely have many daughters done, 
But you've excelled them all." 



AH! AND OH! 

Many a time, when by ourselves, 
Lest goblins should affright her, 

I clasped my sweetheart in my arms 
And proudly squeezed her tighter. 
Ah! 

She'd sweetly smile into my face 
When I'd pretend to bite her, 

And coyly say, " You silly goose ! 
Why don't you squeeze me tighter?" 

Ah! 

I thought I was in the Glory World, 

And grew her eyes the brighter, 

As I filched nectar from her lips 

And fondly squeezed her tighter. 

Ah! 

In the season when leaves are tan 
And frost is on the clover, 

She gave her hand to another man — 
Then squeezing days were over. 
Oh! 



( loo) 



SWEET TO THEE. 

Whether rage the storms of winter, 

Or softly spring zephyrs blow, 
Or come bright days of summer. 

Or woods put on autumnal glow. 
Glad be thy wakeful moments, 

Peaceful thy slumbers be, 
In all earth's fitful seasons 

May life be sweet to thee. 



WHEN THE SUN WENT DOWN. 

On the banks of Dreamland River 
Sits a maiden with eyes so brown ; 

In memory she's with her lover, 

As she was when the sun went down. 

Those sweet hours will never return, 

And Fate's smile has changed to a frown; 

Sadly does her heart ache and burn, 
For the sun of her love's gone down. 

She worships an idol that's broken, 

At the altar in Slumbertown, 
Listens to vows softly spoken, 

Falsely made ere the sun went down. 

Wake up, sore heart ! cease your dreaming. 
Let tears dim not those eyes so brown; 

Still on you is God's love beaming, 

And stars shine when the sun is down. 



(lOl) 

Be the past to you a warning, 

Ne'er will visions bring you renown; 

Bid the Now a glad good-morning, 
For in Heaven there's no sundown. 



THE TEST. 

Given : A man and a woman. 
Plus love, or Cupid's blunder; 

Result, and 'tis only human, 
They'll wed in spite of thunder. 

Where resurrected forms shall live, 

Angelic in their carriage, 
The Savior says they neither give 

Nor are given in marriage. 

But on this terrestrial ball, 

In myth or tale of fairy, 
There never lived since Adam's fall 

A man too old to marry. 

No man will ever live to be 

So old he will not wed ; 
Though he can't hear, smell, taste, or see, 

He'll marry — -unless he's dead. 

Woman may speak of youthful deeds 

In terms solemn or airy ; 
Cut her finger, and, if it bleeds. 

She's not too old to marry. 



( I02) 



SQUEEZING. 

Since Adam first did Eve embrace, 

It has been man's delight 
His arms around woman to place 

And squeeze her with his might. 

All women like to be caressed, 
And mu,ch does it them please 

Close to be pressed to loving breast 
And given a hard squeeze. 

Wise is the man in wedded life 
Who strives to do what's right. 

Oft puts his arms about his wife, 
And squeezes her up tight. 

For sordid gain in every clime 
Base men toil day and night. 

Squeeze hard the goddess on a dime. 
But ne'er their wives hug tight. 

I wish I had a thousand arms. 
Though I be called a dunce, 

I'd encircle ten hundred forms 
And squeeze them all at once. 



HEAD-LIGHTS. 

The lightning bugs have striped wings, 
But they haven't any mind; 

They fly about, poor, foolish things! 
With their head-lights on behind. 



( I03) 



EXACERBATION. 

At school one Friday, in a spelling bee, 
When a boy, I lost my reputation 

As a speller, for failure came to me. 
And down I went on exacerbation. 

I was a crack speller in old Guntown 

And could spell from "baker" to "damnation' 

No pupil in school had e'er turned me down. 
But I slipped up on exacerbation. 

I was dreaming of my little sweetheart, 
Unconscious of all else in creation, 

And in confusion awoke with a start 
When called on to spell exacerbation. 

I was badly rattled, I must confess. 
As I blazed away in consternation; 

Before the "c" I inserted an "s," 
And lost the match on exacerbation. 

" I'm so sorry you missed," she gently said 
To me in my deep mortification, 
Though victory on her banner was read 
Because I missed on exacerbation. 

Never since then have I known a true friend 

Who regretted his own elevation 
Gained through failure of success to attend 

My vain efforts on exacerbation. 

For Eternity has been bleached my head. 
Soon will end my mortal aggravation ; 

I'll rest with the dreamless dust of the dead. 
And know never more exacerbation. 



( I04) 



LIKE WASHINGTON. 

George Washington wore a turned-up hat 

With pointed corners three; , 
Silver buckles fastened his shoes, 

His stockings clasped at knee ; 
His sword was keen, with point as sharp 

As sting of a bumblebee. 

The only fault that George possessed — 

I say it with a sigh — 
Though he was good as he was great. 

He couldn't, tell a lie. 
Only two others just like him. 

You are one, the other — I. 



MABEL. 
(To Her Hl^sb.xnd.) 

His pinions wide the Death Angel spread. 
And' to thy soul dark was the day. 

When, in the prime of her womanhood. 
Thy sweet Mabel was borne away. 

As bright and pure as the Dew Drop 
That sparkles in the morning light 

Was the sweet spirit from earth taken 
To the fair Clime where is no night. 

While sails thy bark time's boisterous sea, 
Mayhap on the shoals to be driven. 

Forever safe with the Blessed Master 
Thy sainted Mabel rests in Heaven. 



( IPS ) 

To the golden strand of the Mystic Shore 
In safety guided mayest thou be, 

And on the Wharf in the Haven behold 
Thy loved Mabel watching for thee. 

Then happy will be reunion 

Where the just receive their reward, 
For the dark vale is but a shadow 

To the faithful that die in the Lord. 



SOPHISTRY. 

From false premises it is taught 

In specious syllogism given. 
A gingercake is sweeter than naught 

And naught is sweeter than Heaven ; 
Therefore sweeter is gingerbread 
Than sweet abode of sainted dead. 

Nothing is better than a good woman, 
Better than nothing is a calf ; 

Hence it follows, from logic human, 
A calf's better than man's better-half. 

This on woman is pretty tough. 

And only fools accept such stufif. 

No man has ninety-nine lives ; 

A man one more life doth live 
Than no man ; hence nature strives 

To each a hundred lives to give. 
Therefore man with a hundred lives 
Should have at least a hundred wives. 



(io6) 



WHICH WAS FIRST, HEN OR EGG? 

Without a sinner, there's no sinning; 

It is from the egg the heti must hatch; 
Nevertheless, in the beginning, 

The first hen that for food had to scratch 
The first white egg on earth had to lay. 

And on that egg first cackled about 
Had to sit patiently day by day 

Till at last she hatched her own self out. 



THE MUSICAL. 

One pleasant evening in springtime 

The birds attended a soiree 
To hear "The Blue Bells of Scotland" 

Sung by a gifted little Fay. 

The nightingale ceased its warbling, 
Silent was the mockingbird's lay, 

And the note of the lark was mute. 
As they listened to the charming Fay. 

Hushed the redbird's merry whistle. 
Still the chattering of blue jay, 

And stopped the thrush its caroling, 
When sang the brilliant little Fay. 

The bluebird bowed to the sparrow, 
The blackbird smiled at the robin gay. 

And the raincrow courted the pigeon, 
While the others applauded the Fay. 



( I07 ) 

The wren flirted with the tomtit, 

The woodpecker kissed the parrot gray, 

And the kildee hugged the plover, 
As was encored the talented Fay. 

The cuckoo thought 'twas an angel, 
But the owl said, "'Tis but a Fay;" 

Then back to home in the forest 
The happy birds all flew away. 



UP THE HOLLOW. 

We are inclined ourselves to mind 
And our own views to follow. 

And, ere we'll yield the sway we wield. 
We'll all go up the hollow. 

We never heed advice we need. 
But our prescriptions swallow, 

Till, sore and sick, we get a kick 
That sends us up the hollow. 

In selfish ease ourselves we please. 
Though in the slime we wallow. 

And then in wrath we tread the path 
That takes us up the hollow. 

Since we are It, we'll not submit 

To wear of law the collar ; 
But, like the fool, bow not to rule 

Till we're sent up the hollow. 

Ere we'll obey what others say. 
We'll sink our bottom dollar; 

Then in dismay in vain we'll pray 
As we're dragged up the hollow. 



( io8,) 



THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

There are creatures fierce, strong and fleet, 

Many of which I never saw; 
But the one man fears most to meet 

Is the dreadful mother-in-law. 

There are people called cannibals, 

And savages that eat flesh raw ; 
Yet no carnivorous animals 

Will devour the mother-in-law. 

Some strike with hoof, with horn some fight, 
Some tear with beak, others with claw ; 

But none with foot, or head, or bite 
Dare tackle the mother-in-law. 

She's bad medicine, you may bet, 
The toughest customer men draw 

By destiny of luck, and yet 
All long for a mother-in-law. 

A child she'll lose — perchance a son. 

Who'll her forsake for some young squaw ; 

Though one she lost, yet hvo she won. 
The fortunate mother-in-law. 

She's abused by arrogant men. 

Who gloat to find the slightest flaw. 
Too dull to grasp no wife had been. 

Had there been no mother-in-law. 

These chronic croakers, respect gone, 
Should be at once made come to taw. 

Given a tongue-lashing well laid on 
By an untamed mother-in-law. 



( I09) 

Compelled to do the home cooking, 

Their hard, cold hearts would quickly thaw, 

And anxiously they'd be looking 
For another mother-in-law. 

Had I e'er known that being queer. 
And been roasted by her slack jaw. 

On every feature depicted fear, 
I'd dread, too, the mother-in-law. 

I never saw my wife's mother 

And of her stood in speechless awe; 

But in her stead was another, 
A' gentle step-mother-in-law. 

From snow-roofed lair of polar bear 

To tropic clime of the pawpaw, 
Bold men, whom no wild beast can scare. 

Quail before the mother-in-law. 

Cheering assurance to man given, 
His spirits making light as straw, 

That will be seen never in Heaven 
The terrible mother-in-law ! 



THEN. 



When comes the close of life's evening. 

In the shadowy twilight gray. 
Angels shall pluck, like full-blown rose, 

Sweet flower for the Lord's bouquet ; 
On deathless wings borne thy spirit 

Where jeweled crown of gold is given. 
While toll for thee the bells of earth, 

Hear mayest thou the music of Heaven. 



(no) 



BIRTHDAYS. 

No birthdays had Adam and Eve, 

Created before the fall; 
But fashion since then has required 

Natal days to come to all. 

Heeded must be common custom 
And answered fashion's call ; 

Only those born on their birthdays 
Are ever born at all. 



WHY? 



Ever sweet to me your name will be. 
And think otherwise you mustn't, 

When witty Fay in jest shall say : 
"That's the reason he doesn't." 

The calf give salt the cow to halt — 
Maybe the saying's slightly twisted; 

But suit's half won, if 'tis begun 
With the mother's aid enlisted. 

By hook or crook I'd win "born cook," 
Who heart through stomach reaches, 

Though a "dead cinch" my prospects pinch 
Till my "punkin hue" she bleaches. 

Flower's the same, whate'er the name. 

In all earth's beautiful flora; 
And, maid or wife, throughout your life 

Always to me you'll be sweet Nora. 



(Ill) 

Yes, I love you for your worth true 
And for the sake of another, 

Because at the baptismal font 

You were christened for vour mother. 



MY GAL'S GONE BACK ON ME. 

I wish I had never been born, 

To drift on life's storm-tossed sea; 

My heart is broken, and I'm forlorn, 
For my gal's gone back on me. 

Through the world I wander alone. 

No joy on earth do I see; 
My troubled soul no peace has known 

Since my gal went back on me. 

I loved her far better than life. 
But false and fickle was she, 

For she promised to be my wife. 
And then she went back on me. 

I'll never trust her any more, 
Though an angel she may be ; 

I'll not forget till life is o'er 
That she once went back on me. 

Some day we'll meet around the throne, 
Where naught but truth can be; 

And, when we reap what we have sown, 
She'll never go back on me. 



(112) 



MAID AND FEATHERWEIGHT. 

A maid sedate and Featherweight 

Sit under an apple tree ; 
Mother looks out and peeps about 

To see what she can see. 
Featherweight's right clasps maiden tight. 

In Heaven both seem to be; 
The mother sighs and softly cries : 

"My daughter takes after me." 

In rapturous bliss he filches kiss, 

And kisses steals galore ! 
With sounding smack she takes them back. 

And then he steals some more. 
As lovers spoon, bright shines the moon, 

And .smiles the mother gray, 
Who knows she, too, with sweetheart true 

Swapped ^kisses that same way. 

Should Featherweight and maiden mate, 

And fails he to obey. 
Across the knee he'll bended be 

And feel the slipper play, 
And long to be again as free 

As under the apple tree : 
And all the while will mother smile, 

" My daughter takes after me." 

Then sweetheart old, on harp of gold, 
Will pick 'neath Fadeless Tree: 
" I'm mighty glad, when she was mad. 
She never took after me." 



("3) 



GOD PITY US. 

God pity us in disappointment, 

When in youth the sun of hope sets, 

And wounded heart for years lives on 
In silent grief, but never forgets ! 

God pity us when bruised spirit 
Hopeless despair will ever rack, 

When out of life something has gone 
That can never, never come back! 

God pity us when blinding tears 

Long have dimmed the love-light beam, 

And in memory of bygone years 
Comes a dream within a dream ! 

God pity us when we are old, 

On ebbing tide borne down the stream, 
And in the sunset clouds of gold 

Behold loved face seen but in dream! 



LOVER AND SWEETHEART. 

Where lover goes it matters not. 
Will Sweetheart never be forgot ; 
In deepest gloom or merry laughter; 
In the Cycles of the Hereafter, 
In the Darkness or the Light Above, 
His Sweetheart still will Lover love ; 
For Lover's love, immortal born, 
Lives beyond Resurrection Morn. 



("4) 

WON'T TELL. 

Voiceless are the skies above, 

And the flowers won't tell 
When whisper I to thee of love 

And kiss thee, Nonie Belle. 

Shot the blind god his keenest dart — - 
Moved my soul with rapturous swell, 

I clasp thee to my loving heart. 
My peerless Nonie Belle. 



LONG ENOUGH. 

Unfortunate has been my lot, 
I've trod ways steep and rough ; 

Worldly pleasures I now know not, 
And I have lived long enough. 

When I was 3'oung, long years ago. 

Ere I'd met sharp rebufl:. 
And still for me did roses blow, 

I'd not lived long enough. 

Roseate then the future seemed, 
Nor filled with kick and cuff, 

Nor of the time had I e'er dreamed 
When I'd lived long enough. 

But gone now are those happy years. 
And sadly the winds sough 

And tell me in mj' blinding tears 
I have lived long enough. 



("5) 

I can but wait the Master's call 
From a world cold and gruff. 

When on my ears shall sweetly fall, 
"You have lived long enough." 



NIP AND TUCK. 

Enters into human affairs 

An element called luck, 
That to success the way prepares, 

Though oft by nip-and-tuck. 

To make the buckle and tongue meet 
Requires effort and pluck, 

And ofttimes we escape defeat 
Only by nip-and-tuck. 

When we, as fortune on us smiles. 

The wine of pleasure sip, 
And sweetly hope the heart beguiles, 

We vainly dream its Nip. 

But when misfortune hits us hard. 
And feel we cyclone-struck, 

Our dignity we soon discard 
And say it's only Tuck. - 

Sometimes, when we get on a tear 

And wildly run amuck, 
In reckless mood we then declare 

It's neither Nip nor Tuck. 



(ii6) 



LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 

They fell in love when first they met, 
And now they stand at the altar; 

But time will come when they'll regret 
They put their heads in the halter. 

If they knew now what they'll know then, 

They'd think Satan is loose, 
And gladly spend life in the Pen 

Or die in the Calaboose. 



THE ASS AND THE FIDDLER. 

An ass once grazed in a rich field, 

The grass was tender and juicy ; 
He was fat and sleek and "well-heeled," 

And cavorted like one boozy. 
In early morn he brayed aloud 

And waked the natives far around; 
No more could sleep their senses shroud 

When waked by that discordant sound. 

An old fiddler, passing that way, 

Sat down in the cool shade to rest ; 
Weird music he began to play 

With a masterly skill and zest; 
O'er the taut strings he drew his bow 

Till they laughed and sang, sighed and wept, 
As through his heart, now all aglow, 

Changeful, thrilling emotions swept. 



("7) 

The ass heard those entrancing strains 

As they flowed from an artist's soul — 
Plaintive as the night wind's refrains, 

Grand as the deep-toned thunder's roll. 
He brayed and brayed — did naught but bray, 

And flop his ears, and wink his eye, 
And switch his tail, as if to say, 

"Bully for me! How's that for high?" 

Poor fool ! to think all sound is sense. 

Racket and noise must music be, 
And all with attention intense 

Would long to hear his harsh "Haw Hee." 
Of him the world could never be proud 

He was too big a dolt to see; 
Like him are all his silly crowd. 

And many human kin has he. 



LOST VALENTINE. 

Ven comes cold vedder 

Und der leaves turn red, 
Ven der flowers vidder 

Dot Jack Frost bit dead, 
Ven der ground ish vite 

Mid beautiful snow, 
Und fru der long night 

Der vintry vinds blow, 
Santa Claus den may 

Bring back dot girl so fine, 
A Christmas gift gay. 

My lost Valentine. 



(ii8) 



THE MANSIONS ABOVE. 

Parted the ways on earth we've trod, 
Though oft I prayed 'twould not be so ; 

When she obeys the call of God, 

The little Dream Woman then will go 
To the mansions above. 

Abide with God in endless day 

The redeemed this promise assures ; 

The little Dream Woman will not then pray 
That " God abide with you and yours," 
In the mansions above. 

When the tide of time shall cease to flow, 
Where the pure in spirit shall be, 

In raiment white as spotless snow 

The little Dream Woman then I'll see 
In the mansions above. 



TOGETHER. 

It was in this dear old church, 
Worn by time and weather, 

My sweetheart and I, when 3roung, 
Knelt and prayed together. 

Beyond the sunset's rays of gold. 
When parted life's tether. 

May she and I in Heaven kneel 
And praise our God together. 



("9) 



DOUBLE SPx\RKING. 

Defiance has a twin sister 

Called Pensiveness, with eyes of blue ; 
When the former has a lover, 

The latter's sure to have one, too. 

To leave each other they are loth, 
So to court one is to court both ; 
But suitor gets into trouble 
When sparking one is sparking double. 



IF. 

If you loved me as I love you, 

To me, Sweetheart, you'd e'er be true ; 

If I loved you as you love me, 

My sweetheart you'd never be. 

Loved we each other as we should do, 

Whoopla ! sweetheart. Glory hullaloo ! 

Could I be you and you I be, 

I wouldn't tell if you kissed me; 

And were I you and you were I, 

If you kissed me I wouldn't cry. 

When the day is brightly dawning, 

My sweetheart I'd kiss good-morning; 

And, when the stars are twinkling bright. 

My dear sweetheart I'd kiss good-night ; 

In Slumber Town real 'twould seem. 

And I'd kiss you in realm of dream. 



( 120) 



VAIN REGRETS. 

When first the nuptial knot is tied, 

For life two souls uniting, 
He thinks, and swells his heart with pride, 

She's sweet as poundcake whiting. 

It is a fact to which he'll swear, 
Believes he none can beat her, 

She looks so tender, sweet and fair, 
He almost longs to eat her. 

But when a few swift years have fled, 
And married life has soured her, 

He'll wish he had, when they first wed, 
Cannibal-like, devoured her. 



THE CAKE'S ALL DOUGH. 

Our hearts are glad and we are vain 
When seem things right to go, 

Yet oft we learn in shame and pain 
Our cake is only dough. 

We proudly think that we are right 
And more than others know, 

But see at last, though dim our sight, 
Our cake is naught but dough. 

We profit not by what we've met 

Or any wiser grow, 
Against another's trick still bet. 

Then eat our cake of dough. 



(121) 

Be filled our lives with noble deeds, 
For reap we what we sow ; 

If to the wind we scatter seeds. 
We'll find our cake all dough. 

When earth we leave, may we go not 
Where lasting embers glow, 

And make the clime so scorching hot 
The cake is cindered dough. 



SMART ELICS. 

Smart Elics would the farmer hug 
And do things queer and funny; 

They'd gladly fondle the straddle bug. 
To jingle the farmer's money. 

They'd play with the farmer's hoppergrass 

And eat his bumblebee honey, 
And boldly Satan himself harass. 

To handle the farmer's money. 

They may say things ugly and rash 

And hustle, rainy or sunny ; 
But their schemes does the farmer smash 

By holding fast his hard-earned money. 

The Farmers' Union they may abuse 

And crack stale jokes smutty and funny, 

But smiles the farmer at their ruse 
And grips tight his untainted money. 



( 122) 



MINGLED. 

Every sweet has its bitter, 
And every rose its thorn ; 

DayHght fades in darkness. 
Of the night the day is born. 

Fragrant flower's beauty 

Sharp sting of spine conceals, 

And lifted veil of darkness 
Splendors of morn reveals. 

Mixed are good and evil. 

United joy and pain ; 
Sunshine makes the vapors 

That form the clouds and rain. 

Destined to decadence 
Existent things of earth : 

Though end must life in death. 
Yet death's but a new birth. 



OVER THE 'PHONE. 

I sparked my girl over the line 
Ere I'd learned to distrust her. 

While still on me beamed the sunshine 
Of hope with dimless luster. 

When I found out she was alone. 
No one there, except just her, 

I clasped her tight over the 'phone 
And — good lawdy! I bussed her. 



(123) 



A GREETING. 

On swift wings speed away, sweet Dove, 

And bear a greeting from me 
To one whose memory I still love 

Who promised my bride to be. 

Tell her I cherish her memory yet, 

Though never again T\\ see 
The dear, sweet face I'll not forget 

Till I cross over Lethe. 

Tell her from me will ne'er depart 

The memory of Long Ago, 
When I pressed her to my throbbing heart 

And kissed her brow of snow. 

Tell her that till shall come the day 

When I bid earth adieu, 
Down in my soul I'll truly say : 

"I gave my heart to 3'ou." 



BIRTHDAY GREETINGS. 

My compliments to you I send 

And many pleasant things would say, 
And wish you many glad retruns 

Of this, your natal day. 
In hope and peace long may you live, 

Then sweetly pass away. 
And nightless Eternity be 

Your final natal day. 



(124) 



COURTING AND MARRYING. 

'Tis sweet to love to foolish young hearts, 
Yet love is but an insane passion; 

When riper age more knowledge imparts, 
To love is no longer the fashion. 

'Tis noble our lot bravely to bear 

And fate's hard blows e'er strive to parry; 

But sadly we learn in pain and care 
'Tis bhss to court, but not to marry. 

No mother-in-law your life to sour ; 

No fires to make, no stove wood to get ; 
No carpet waltz at the midnight hour. 

To infant colicky music set. 

No curtain lectures in angel tone 

To cow your soul and give you warning, 
" I'll go back to Pa's," when you reel home 
About two o'clock in the morning. 

No one to boss you when you are sick, 
Sew on your buttons, patch your breeches, 

Honey fuggle you with some sly trick. 
Tickle your chin, and spend your riches. 

If you would have nothing to regret 
And sweet peace with you always tarry. 

Remain single and never forget 

'Tis heaven to court, but h — 1 to marry. 



(125) 



ASLEEP. 

End must this life of mortal breath, 
The form lie 'neath the sod ; ■ 

Yet thou knowest there is no death 
To those who love their God. 

Came Jesus here the world to save, 

The Holy Spirit saith; 
Snatched he victory from the grave 

And took the sting from death. 

Then why shouldst thou in sorrow weep 

Or be thy heart distressed 
Because thy loved one's fallen asleep 

On the blessed Master's breast ? 

Grieve not as those who have no hope, 

For where no tears can be. 
While thou dost here in darkness grope, 

Thy loved one waits for thee. 

Wish not back that soul, in thy gloom, 
Whence the crystal river flows, 

Where is the Tree of fadeless bloom, 
And is eternal repose. 

Thee, too, from earth will God soon call, 

And, parted again never, 
With loved ones, where no shadows fall, 

Happy thou'lt be forever. 



(126) 



THE OLD WARPING BARS. 

How clear to my aged heart are the burning 
-Recollections of the dear old warping bars 
That 'hung on the south end of the old log house 
Where I was born ! How often in the glad days 
Of my childhood did I see the trim figure 
Of my sweet mother walk quickly to and fro, 
As from the double row of spools the thread wound 
She on the wooden pins in the warping frame 
Against the wall leaning! Yet it is not this 
That to me their memory renders so dear. 
Down through the paired spools, one o'er the other 

placed. 
Ran as an axle a long, slim bough, of bark 
Denuded clean, and from the peach tree taken. 
When of their thread all the spools had been run bare. 
In a bundle with a string the twigs were tied, 
And in a crack between the logs, to be used 
Again, were safely stored; but, sad to relate, 
Ofttimes it happened that in future service 
Some of them never again served as spindles 
On which the thread-filled spools rapidly revolved. 
But were worn to a frazzle in a warmer, 
Closer and much livelier entertainment. 
In the summer season of those happy years 
No garment, save a little shirt, my childish 
Form wore. Many times my dutiful mother. 
When my often-repeated disobedience 
Her chastening love had offended, firmly 
In hers my little hand would take and gently, 
In spite of my obstinate pulling back, lead 
Me out behind the sunny side of the house 



( 127 ) 

Of my birth, where safe behind the logs of oak, 
Together tightly bound, those switches pliant, 
Tough and keen, in silent repose, beyond my 
Youthful reach, were snugly stored away. With lips 
Compressed, with true and practiced hand out she drew 
From that well-wrapt bundle the longest, toughest, 
And most limber; and then the exercises. 
Under circumstances most auspicious, began ; 
And my little form to the little switches 
A formal introduction warmly received. 
Calmly raising the rear part of my single 
Little robe till she my dorsal regions bared. 
On my little naked body and nether 
Limbs the stinging blows she rained with skill and ease 
So graceful, and with such strenuous vigor. 
Rapidity and continuance I danced 
A triple-double-shuffle two-step so fast 
The time, in the known measure of the gamut. 
Has never been computed. My little body 
Smarted so I thought I was on fire and blazing, 
And this old world was aflame in its final 
Conflagration ! Yes, indeed ; clear to me still 
Are the stinging recollections of the old 
Warping bars that hung in the days of my youth 
On the south side of the log cabin where first 
I saw the light, and those scorching switches yet 
To my memory most tenaciously cling. 



BE THINE. 

May thy days be full of sunshine, 

From pain and heartaches be thou free, 

Heaven's richest blessings e'er be thine, 
And all life's seasons sweet to thee. 



(128) 



LILIAN SALE. 

I love thee ; yes, but love in vain — 
My passion deep will naught avail; 

Thy true, pure heart I ne'er can gain 
And call thee mine, sweet Lilian Sale. 

To another thy love thou'lt give 
And wear for him the bridal veil; 

Devoted wife with him thou'lt live 

Till death doth part, sweet Lilian Sale. 

Sadly must I life's rugged way 

Tread alone o'er mountain and dale, 

Till comes on earth my final day. 
E'er true to thee, sweet Lilian Sale. 

When the knell of time has been tolled, 
And over wrong shall right prevail, 

Where angels sound their harps of gold, 
I'll love thee still, sweet Lilian Sale. 



NUDE CUPID. 

Cupid sits on a high stool. 

His robe an angel's wing. 
Of other clothes the little fool 

Wears not a single thing. 

When rises he from sweet love dreams 

■In morning's rosy dawn. 
The brazen scamp, to me it seems. 
Should put his breeches on. 



( 129) 



DEAD. 

I have outlived my usefulness, 

No more earn I my bread ; 
To all extent and purposes 

To the world I am dead. 

I sit here in loneliness, 

From my heart hope has fled 7 

My labor on earth is over, 
To others I am dead. 

Sometimes I almost long to lie 

In my cold, earthy bed. 
And rest in that long, dreamless sleep 

That comes but to the dead. 

The world no longer cares for me, 

And death I do not dread ; 
Then haste the time when my loved ones 

Shall whisper, "He is dead!" 



EVER REMEMBERED. 

Oh ! dost thou think thou canst teach me 
By thy silence to forget thee, 
Sweet INIarie ? 

The days glide by, life's sun must set; 
But, till comes death, I'll not forget 
Sweet Marie. 
9 



( 130) 



THE EDITOR. 

Who gathers for others the local news 
Which leisurely they in comfort peruse, 
Tells of the weather and about the crops, 
Of picnic parties and delightful hops, 
Of fishing excursions and quilting bees. 
Of club meetings and fashionable teas, 
And of the whoppers and curious freaks 
To his ofifice brought with vaunting pride speaks ? 
The hustling editor. 

Who boosts the old town for all it is worth, 
As the best market in this part of the earth 
For poultry, and eggs, and cotton, and maize. 
And everything else the farmer can raise. 
And declares the merchants sell goods so cheap 
The buyer suspects he stole them in sleep. 
And, because the town voted dry as punk, 
In charity sweet says naught of the drunk? 
The progressive editor. 

Who promptly responds when the people call. 
And receives reward, if he's paid at all. 
For the service he faithfully renders 
In stove wood, pumpkins, popcorn and pindars, 
And if in forgetfulness one should think 
For subscription due to plank down the chink. 
Though pleasantly the while he laughs and talks. 
Squeezes tight the coin till the eagle squawks ? 
The abused editor. 

Who publishes church directories free. 
Charges secret orders never a fee. 



(131) • 

Of public gatherings and about the school 
To give notice gratis makes it a rule, 
Informs neighbors and friends when you are sick, 
Ascribes to you, when the bucket you kick, 
Noble qualities you never possessed, 
xA.nd sends you straight to everlasting rest? 
The generous editor. 

Who of misfortunes and accidents tells. 
Of births and deaths and of wedding bells, 
Of fads and fashions and athletic sports, 
Of pros and antis, and statutes and courts, 
Of sales and values, and taxes and rents, 
Of doings at home and foreign events. 
And of war and peace, and plenty and need, 
Till close our tired eyes and we cease to read ? 
The intelligent editor. 

Who'll some day discard apparel threadbare 
To don habiliments the blessed saints wear, 
And on golden harp of exquisite tone 
Make sweetest music before the Great Throne, 
But hear subscriber, delinquent so long, 
On fireproof cornet play another song, 
As he cuts capers in sulphurous heat 
Because in this world he played the dead-beat? 
The redeemed editor. 



IMPRISONED. 

As swiftly to and fro time plies the shuttle, 

Into beautiful pattern weaving the woof 

And warp of thy pure, sweet, true life, imprisoned 

Be there among the silken filaments 

A perfume fragrant as the Easter Lily's bloom. 



( 132) 



GIANTS. 

There were giants in olden times, 

And one of them, though big and fat. 

Has hved on, and, in spite of years. 
Is still as active as a cat. 

Goliath was of huge stature, 

And Aaron a fluent talker ; 
Yet in size and speech were they naught 

To Baldwyn's wonder, Dick Walker. 

He is high up and far around. 

And his weight not far from a ton ; 

In the language of the bootblack, 
"He's a big old son of a gun!" 

He's a puzzle to the tailor. 

For his measure is hard to take. 

And the cloth in a single bolt 

Will not for him a full suit make. 

Hackmen want him to pay by weight. 
Hotels for extra trouble put : 

He's charged per drink for a full quart, 
And for a shine so much per foot. 

He's too large to read one paper, 
So newsboys for two make him pay ; 

Barbers scrape up and down his face 
And charge him for a shave each way. 

Railroads want him to pay extra. 

They can't pull him on schedule time ; 

And, when he boards the trolley car. 
The conductor demands a dime. 



( 133) 

There is much sickness in the land 
When this Hercules becomes ill ; 

The doctor doubles the physic. 
And likewise his medical bill. 

Yes, there's lots of this old fellow. 
And some might call him a "corker' 

But none can find a grander man 
Than jolly, big-souled Dick ^^^alker. 



THE PUBLIC ROADS. 

They lead over mountain and hill, 

Through valley, from country to town, 

To church, graveyard, home, school and mill. 
And in places to regions down. 

It matters not which way you go, 

Sticks the mud closer than a brother. 

And, as you toil, and fret, and blow. 
You'll vainly wish you'd taken another. 

Bespattered with tenacious clay. 

Declares stranger, tired and forlorn, 

As plods he the beeswax highway: 
" Woe was the day that I was born !" 

It is a fact, strange as it may seem, 

There's something queer about these roads ; 

Oft heavy draughts are pulled by teams 
That quickly stall with empty loads. 

I couldn't well their condition tell. 

Had I descriptive powers rare; 
But traveler on such roads to h — 

Might be glad when he got there. 



(134) 



SAM. 

In the roseate dawn of manhood. 
From earth's mildew and blight, 

To the realm of life eternal 
His spirit winged its flight. 

For him let not your hearts be troubled 

Or his departure bemoan. 
For the dear God His angels sent 

And took to Heaven His own. 

Forever safe in fadeless glory, 
Where tears of grief ne'er fall, 

Abides he now with Christ Jesus, 
Who died to save us all. 

Unto the end e'er walk in faith. 

Though rough and steep be the road. 

And receive at the Shining Portal 
Glad welcome to that abode. 



REST. 



Perfect the Deity's handiwork, 
Good all things He created; 

In His image made He Adam, 
Then Eve, that man be mated. 

The supreme skill of Jehovah 
Woman's creation tested ; 

From His labor He rested then, 
But never since has rested. 



( 135 ) 



MAYBE. 

I've wished that I, unknown to thee, 

Might look on thy sweet face; 
But 'twas ordained I ne'er should see 

Thy loveliness and grace ; 
Yet I might view thy image fair, 

And glad and proud I'd be. 
If thou in kindness couldst but dare 

Thy picture send to me; 
And in memory again I'd hear 

The solemn promises broken 
Of one whose name for many a year 

My lips have never spoken. 
I'd prize it as would no other, 

And perchance once more I'd see 
In resemblance the sweet mother 

Of beautiful Marie. 



WATCHING. 

W'hen, in the rosy morning light 

Like diamonds shines the dew. 
Or blazes sun at midday bright 

In skies of cloudless blue, 
Or twinkling stars peep out at night. 

And the moon is shining, too, 
Softly you call me " Sweetheart Dear, 

And vow you'll e'er be true 
Till the call of death you shall hear 

And pass from mortal view. 
Wisely I'll act, if girls are near. 

To keep an eye on you. 



(136) 



ENDED. 

Christmas is over, another year has fled ; 
Its joys are ended, its sorrows are dead ; 
To you may each day of the glad New Year 
Be free from sadness and fraught with good cheer; 
And ere comes again the merry Yuletide, 
Be winsome virgin a happy young bride; 
And the rest of hfe spend hubby's monSy, 
And sweej" be to him as bumblebee honey. 



KISSING. 



Two souls in juxtaposition, 
Filled with delirious bliss, 

Most rapturous osculation. 
The heavenly first love-kiss. 

Labial pressing perilous. 

Oft causing fatal strife, 
Secret, forbidden blunderbuss, 

Or kissing another's wife. 

Coy, bewitching, deceitful kiss, 

Delusive as a shadow. 
The hypnotic e pluribus, 

Or kissing a gay widow. 

Most foolish mouth-smacking game 
By mortal lips ever played. 

Insipid, soulless syllabus, 
Or kissing an old maid. 



( 137) 

Formal greeting called holy kiss, 
Void of thrilling pleasure, 

The perfunctory iambus, 
Or kissing by the measure. 

Meet lips in imagination. 
Though real it may seem. 

The weird, unconscious incubus. 
Or kissing in a dream. 

At promiscuous lip performance 
Modesty her flag furls — 

The nauseating omnibus, 
Or kissing all the girls. 

Imprinting kiss on sweetheart's lips 
Young lover drives insane ; 

But he's restored by the rebus. 
Or kissing her again. 



BEST OF ALL. 

I like the old greeting 

In the old-fashioned way ; 
I like my dear old friends, 

Though they are worn and gray ; 
I like the old-style Christmas, 

With all its hearty cheer; 
I like the dear dead Past 

That brings the glad New Year; 
I like Yuletide pleasures 

And memories they recall ; 
But I love my little Sweetheart 

More than I do them all. 



(138) 



CHRISTMAS. 

It is Christmas; has come and gone 

Another year of joy and care. 
And Time's swift tide still bears us on 

To endless peace or dark despair. 

When ends with thee all mortal strife, 
And thou hast crossed the Stygian River, 

Thine be the gift of eternal life 
Where 'tis Christmas forever. 



LULA. 



A bonny lass that none surpass, 

Lovely, sweet and clever. 
With eyes so blue and heart so true, 

And fascinating ever, 
Charming Lula. 

Oh ! she's a Peach beyond my reach ; 

Yet, ere another seize her, 
I long from bough to pluck her now 

And to my bosom squeeze her, 
Winsome Lula. 

Young man, beware this maiden fair. 
Or you will hit the ceiling : 

Her smile's a trap to catch the chap 
Tender passion revealing 
For divine Lula. 



[ 139 ) 

Some lucky day this damsel gay 
A first prize will be drawn, 

And think will he an angel she 
Till the glamor is gone 

From hypnotizing Lula. 



YOUR PICTURE. 

Would I on it in rapture gaze, 

Admire your beauty rare. 
And vainly dream of bygone days 

Whose skies were always fair. 

On me were not of age the snows, 

Were I but twenty-two, 
I'd haste where fast the Llano flows, 

And fall in love with you. 

'Tis well for me that I am old 
And young no more can be, 

For old love story newly told 
But pain could bring to me. 

Though met we not each other here. 

We shall each other see 
In cycling eons of some sphere 

From earthly struggles free. 

The blessed angels in that place. 
When we the flesh discard. 

To me will show the sainted face 
Of sweet Marie Menard. 



( ho) 



FORGET ME NOT. 

Forget thee ! Not till ashes pray- 
In silent graveyard lot, 

And dust of flower again shall say: 
" Dear God, I have forgot." 



Forget thee ! No, I'll not forget 
Where's no forget-me-not; 

When planets cease to rise and set. 
And earth shall be forgot. 



Forget thee ! Yes, when Time shall all 
From memory's tablet blot. 

When angels nevermore recall, 
And life itself's forgot. 



MY MOTHER. 

You are nearing life's wintry close. 
The snows of age are on you now ; 

Soon will your eyes to earth be sealed, 
The chill of death be on your brow. 

Worldly pleasures lie in the past, 

And your heartaches will soon be o'er; 

Calmly you wait for the summons 
To the bright and beautiful shore. 



(HI) 

Here you have known many changes, 

Ofttimes j'our heart's been sorely pained, 

And to the dregs in bitter tears 

The cup of sorrow have you drained. 

Precious Mother, ere long must you 
Bid your loved ones a sad farewell ; 

But you will go to your Savior 
And safe with Him forever dwell. 

When is finished your earthly course. 
Your body will lie 'neath the sod ; 

But, happy always in Heaven, 

Sweet ^Mother, vou'll rest with vour God. 



HAT ON WRONG. 

A sweet, good woman, tired of toil, 
Once shufHed of this mortal coil. 
And, when she reached the Golden Gate, 
Asked the keeper, "Is my hat on straight?" 

He gazed at her with critical eye. 
And slowly then he made reply : 
"A thing like that I wouldn't mind. 
But it is on forepart behind." 

Then the woman, her cheeks aflame. 
Returned in haste whence she came. 
Since no woman, stout, short or long. 
Would enter Heaven with hat on wroncr. 



( 142) 



ILLUSIONS OF ALCOHOL. 

Filthy rags become fine linen, 
Starvation is changed to a feast, 

The hut is a royal palace, 

And the drinker becomes — a beast. 

Ugliness is changed to beauty, 

And confusion is changed to rule; 
Corruption becomes purity, 
-And the tippler becomes — a fool. 

Deformity is perfection. 

Elevations appear level, 
Debauchery is liberty. 

And man becomes — a human devil. 

Religion becomes mockery, 

The Spirit's wooings but a spell, 

Hereafter is nonentity. 

And this old world is changed to — hell. 



PERENNIAL BLOOM. 

Till of our departure comes the hour. 
May duty done our lives perfume 

With fragrance sweet as emits the flower 
That grew beside the Savior's tomb. 

When earthly ties death shall sever, 
And immortality shall we assume. 

Be our spirits happy forever 

Where Easter Lilies always bloom. 



(143) 



FOR THEE. 

Were I not what I am — 

Were I a honey bee, 
From the nectar of the blossoms 

I'd filch the sweets for thee. 

If I were a flower 

In garden, field, or lea, 
Of thee I'd dream all winter 

And bloom in spring for thee. 

If I were a song bird, 
I'd leave the nesting tree 

And carol near thy window 
My sweetest songs for thee. 

If I were a streamlet - 

Fast flowing to the sea, 
I'd ripple 'tween my mossy banks 

And softly purl for thee. 

If I were a twinkling star, 
When night lamps lighted be, 

In the azure dome of heaven 
I'd shine alone for thee. 

If I were a brilliant gem, 

And thou shouldst e'er wear me. 
In many-tinted rays would I 

The light reflect for thee. 

Were I not what I am — 
If I were young and free, 

And thou again a charming girl. 
For bonny bride I'd claim thee. 



( 144) 



VALENTINE GREETING. 

When from this world I must depart, 
I'll say with my dying breath: 
" I've loved you through life, my Sweetheart, 
And now I love you in death." 

Where enters naught that is human, 

When life eternal is given. 
Forever, dear little Woman, 

Will I love vou then in Heaven. 



'TIS HARD. 

Oh ! it is hard, so hard, each day. 

While here the race we run, 
To meekly bow and humbly pray, 

"Thy will, O God, be done!" 

'Tis hard to trust when veiled the sky 

And storms about us break, 
When lightning plays, and waves roll high, 

And thunder makes us quake. 

'Tis hard to do what He requires 

And daily bear the Cross, 
Refine our lives in crucial fires 

And burn away the dross. 

'Tis hard to bless those who abuse us, 

And our enemies love, 
Forgive those who wrongfully use us. 

And serve the Lord above. 



( 145 ) 

'Tis hard to quit without regret 
All sinful pleasures known, 

In love for others self forget 
And live for God alone. 



ISABELLA MARIA. 

Napoleonic is the brow 

Of the woman I most admire; 

To her wishes I meekly bow, 
Noble Isabella Maria. 

She's good and brave, and kind and sweet. 
And I love her like fighting fire ; 

But I dread her anger to meet. 
Charming Isabella Maria. 

Sad experience has taught me 
Caution in stirring up her ire : 

For, when roused, a cyclone is she. 
Lovely Isabella Maria. 

She is the one on this old earth 

Who fills my heart's cherished desire, 

And she her weight in gold is worth, 
Precious Isabella Maria. 

I loved her many years ago. 
And I'll love her till I expire. 

And Up There, if to Heaven I go, 
I'll love Isabella Maria. 



lO 



( 146 ) 

MY FIRST, BEST LOVE. 

(Which? Both.) 

How hard I tried to stem the tide 

That bore me to Despond's Dark Slough ! 

Though \ c became another's bride, 

( you ) 

I gave my first, best love to you. 

In sorrow deep for you I weep, 
Each day anew my way pursue, 

And dream at night in restless sleep 
I gave my first, best love to you. 

Amid the strife of my sad life 
Ever to you have I been true; 

Though ) \ must live another's wife, 

( you ) 

I gave my first, best love to you. 

For you I'll wait at Heaven's gate. 
If I pass through before you do; 

Though ) \ must die another's mate, 

( you ) 

I gave my first, best love to you. 



EVELYN. 



Shivered the oak by the thunder bolt 
Hurled from the lowering skies; 

Paralyzed my heart by electric volt 

From flashing glance of the bright eyes 
Of queenly Evelyn. 



(147) 



PREDESTINATION. 

Ere the hills clapped their hands for joy, 
And the morning stars joined in song, 

Concerning the destiny of man 
God and Satan debated long. 

God favored universal salvation, 

But Satan wanted all to die ; 
And so, when the ballot was taken, 

The vote resulted in a tie. 

If you and I ever reach Heaven, 

That blissful abode on high, 
We must work out our own redemption 

And that deadlock vote untie. 

Spend we the time in idleness. 
As swiftly the moments glide by, 

Satan will nab two old sinners — 
You'll be one, and the other — • good lawdy ! 



THE HOBBLE SKIRT. 

When bold men gaze with watchful eye. 

And strong winds raise the dirt, 
And sights low seen become scenes high. 

And limbs with vision flirt. 
And creatures fair in anger cry 

Bad man's eye dust may hurt, 
As go dry goods toward the sky, 

God bless the hobble skirt ! 



(148) 



EASTER. 

'Twas on the first bright Easter morn 
That He who died the world to save 

Asunder burst the bonds of Death 
And victory won over the Grave. 

' He is not here, He is risen," 

Exultingly the disciples cried ; 

For the borrowed tomb of Joseph 

No longer held Him crucified. 

After the lapse of centuries, 

Yearly, when comes this blessed day. 
To Him who is the Resurrection 

Countless thousands kneel and pray. 

To-day, in commemoration 

Of our Lord's triumph o'er the tomb, 
Be our prayers incense pure and sweet 

As the fragrance of lily's bloom. 

May we be led by the Spirit 

And walk in faith the paths of peace. 
Till from the temptations of earth 

The weary soul shall find release. 

Then, in the glorious Hereafter, 

With the redeemed we'll sing His praise, 
And happy be with holy angels 

Where 'tis one bright Easter always. 



( 149) 



JULIA ESTELLE. 

I know a beautiful maiden 

Whom no one can excel, 
For she's as good as she is fair, 

Winsome Julia Estelle. 

Her form's of matchless symmetry, 
Of peerless mold her face. 

Fascinating are her manners, 
Her actions full of grace. 

Her eyes are like the summer skies, 

Her cheeks of rosy tint, 
The meshes of her bonny hair 

Reflect the sunlight's glint. 

Her life's as pure as spotless snow. 
Her heart is gay and free ; 

To her the days in gladness pass. 
She's happy as can be. 

When the fires of sublime passion 
In her soul brightly beam. 

Will thrill her heart in ecstasy 

Known but in Love's sweet dream. 

Ne'er may she know disappointment. 
But love wisely and well ; 

And God grant all true wedded joys 
To sweet Julia Estelle. 



( I.50 ) 



AT THE SHINING PORTAL. 

Never, with mortal vision, 
Your face on earth I'll view; 

But, at the Shining Portal, 
I'll wait and watch for you. 



LINCTUM BONUM. . 
(A Good Licking, as of Salt or Sugar.) 

Cast out the beam from your own eye, 
Then perhaps you can condone 'em, 

When faults in others you descry. 
And can give 'em linctum bonum. 

Perform your duties when you should, 
'Tis policy bad to postpone 'em; 

Delays seldom result in good. 

Nor good is stale linctum bonum. 

If you own things requiring care, 
I advise you not to loan 'em. 

For, when returned, will their repair 
Cost you more than linctum bonum. 

When false proved prophets in old times. 
To death would the people stone 'em; 

But in this age similar crimes 

Are punished with linctum bonum. 



(ISO 

When rulers their powers abuse, 

Then should their subjects dethrone 'em, 

Place them where naught can they misuse, 
But harmless be as linctum bonum. 

Sometimes, when children disobey. 
In wrath their parents disown 'em, 

Though it might be a wiser way 
To treat 'em with linctum bonum. 

To keep his razors keen and bright 

Oft must the barber hone 'em; 
And many men, ere they'll do right. 

Oft coaxed must be with linctum bonum. 

But, when is held the final court, 

Declare will Judge He's never known 'em, 
And sentence them to Brimstone Port, 

On lake where's no linctum bonum. 



THE REST CURE. 

Beneficial is the Rest Cure 
In weather warm or freezing; 

It strengthens the muscles, I am sure. 
To practice double squeezing. 

Let me no longer pain endure. 
And quit my body drugging, 

Grow well and strong on the Rest Cure, 
Or die in duplex hugging. 



(152) 



SUNSET. 

Morning has fled, noontide has waned, 

Look we now with regret 
On the lengthening evening shadows, 

As comes on the sunset. 

Yet the night with its many stars 
Must soon give place to day, 

And light will flood the world again, 
And darkness flee away. 

We often gaze into dear eyes 
With the dews of grief wet. 

For they have looked on earth's sorrows 
And seen some sad sunset. 

When sore and heavy are our hearts, 
Sometimes we sigh and fret, 

And long to lay our burdens down 
And speed to the sunset. 

The spring flowers quickly wither. 
The summer brook fast flows, 

Ere long are gone the autumn tints, 
And soon comes winter's close. 

When comes our summons, if bravely 

Each duty has been met. 
Face we death without a tremor 

And welcome life's sunset. 

The sun of life will rise again, 

Ne'er will God us forget. 
But take our spirits to that clime 

Where there is no sunset. 



( 153 J 



A FINGER IN THE PIE. 

We don't count the cost, no matter how high, 
But just bang away and make the dust fly; 
If we have good luck and hit the bull's-eye, 
We sometimes get a finger in the pie. 

Nobody wins when the game is a tie ; 
We seldom fish, for we don't like to lie ; 
But we slyly smile and wink the off eye. 
When we think we've a finger in the pie. 

When the joker is out, ace is not high; 
If we try to bluff, things oft go awry. 
And we go busted, and learn with a sigh 
Some one else has a finger in the pie. 

Our sorrows live on, our pleasures soon die, 
Though all seems lovely and the goose honks high; 
Many people wish, as cares multiply. 
They'd never put a finger in the pie. 

When of mortal life the fountain runs dry. 
And we bid the earth a final good-bye. 
As we near Heaven, may the angels cry: 
"Blessed are the saints with a finger in the pie!" 



DAM OR DAUGHTER. 

Just smoke it in your pipe 

As a truth from " Uncle Sam," 

You'll never get the daughter 

When you've failed to win the dam. 



(154) 



WHENCE — THENCE. 

From the dear old home where first to the light blinked 
Our infant eyes, truant-like, may we wander; 
But, though we roam far away o'er land and sea, 
In thought return we, in hours of quietude, 
To the place where we were born. For the moment 
In our mirth forgot may be our childhood scenes ; 
But, in our sadness, to the hive not straighter 
Flies the bee than fly our thoughts to the loved spot 
Of our birth. 

Comes there a day when the home nest 
The young birds forsake, and from the natal tree 
Fly away; mate they in the glad spring season 
And together for themselves cheerily build 
Cozy nests and their offspring rear; yet often 
In plaintive note seem they to sing of that warm 
Nest where first beneath their mother's breast all safe 
And snug they lay. 

When from winter's dream nature 
Awakes, from roots in earth deeply buried flows 
The sap through trunk and branch and twig, and to 

bud 
Incipient nutriment carries, and makes 
New growth ; but, when by. autumn frosts chilled, 

runs it 
Back to its home in the ground. 

Through the ether. 
From its source travels the light, and from repose 
To activity rouses animated 
Objects and continues in organic 
Matter excites; but, when comes again rest time. 



(155) 

In noiseless flight hastens it back to the home 

Of the Day King, kissing en route the stars good-night. 

From the cavernous abodes wander the winds 

And to the remotest Hmits of earth fly; 

Across the summer skies lazily floating 

The white, fleecy clouds they send; the thunder-heads. 

Like snow-capped mountains, along the horizon 

They pile ; they shriek in the nimbus clouds that bring 

The April showers or swell the streams with flood ; 

In early morn from the flowers the zephyrs 

Kiss the dewdrops, and at eventide to rest 

Soothe with their lullabies the tired world ; the leaves. 

Seared and fallen, from their beds the whirlwind lifts 

With its breath and scatters far and wide; is heard 

The voice of the storm winds in the angry roar 

Of the hurricane, the hiss of the maelstrom. 

And the thunder of the surf; but, when their force 

They have spent, return they home and, during 

The dead calm, sleep in the caves of Boreas. 

With precision unerring in space revolve 

The planets and that whereunto they were made 

Accomplish ; by Omnipotence created 

Of nothing were they; and, when collides the end 

With the beginning of duration's measured 

Cycle, whence they came must they return and be 

Forever in home of nonentity ; 

Amid things mortal wanders, for three score years 

And ten, the spirit incarnate ; then, when worn 

The flesh with toil and pain, asunder death snaps 

The cord of bondage, and to God who gave it 

The spirit returns. 

All matter is nothing; 
Nothing is nothing; of nothing was nothing 
Made nothing ; to nothing must nothing return ; 
Of nothing nothing, save nothing, will remain. 



(156) 



PASSING AWAY. 

On things mortal has Destiny 
Stamped the seal of decay, 

And the fleeting years remind us 
All things are passing away. 

Has been ours life's maturity, 
Now are we old and gray, 

And echoes back the vanished past 
We, too, are passing away. 

In the eons of the Hereafter, 
Our course on earth being done, 

By the living be we remembered 
For some good we shall have done. 



BECAUSE. 



I had not thought I'd write again, 
Lest you I should offend. 

But e'er in silence to remain 
Till comes to me the end. 

'Tis hard my feelings to suppress 
Since your kind words have come. 

And not to you my thanks express 
With lips that should be dumb. 

I must with grateful heart to you. 

And in contrition deep, 
Confess by this intrusion new 

I fail my word to keep. 



(157) 

The woman that Thou gavest me 

Did me entice to eat," 
The unjust charge will ever be 

Against man's fair helpmeet. 

I did not mean you to deceive 
Or a false pledge to make; 

But your kindness, daughter of Eve, 
Makes me my promise break. 



KNOCK THE BLOCK OUT. 

In arena two champions met 

Skill to test in religious bout; 
No odds were given, even the bet 

As to which could knock the block out. 

Each for an opening cautiously sparred 

Erom guard opponent to rout; 
They swung, countered, parried, and barred 

In effort vain to knock the block out. 

They feinted, jabbed, punched and pounded, 
While applause did spectators shout ; 

But ended round when gong sounded. 

No blow landed that knocked the block out. 

They clinched and broke, and rushed and fought 

To send each other up the spout ; 
They struck, blocked, dodged, hooked, and sought 

By uppercut to knock the block out. 

Decided referees the mill a draw ; 

Then ready contestants to pout. 
Because each failed to reach the jaw, 

Nor vim possessed to knock the block out. 



(158) 



FREEZING OR BLAZING? 

When we go hence, at death's expense, 
Through narrow portal squeezing, 

It would be bad and mighty sad 
To enter climate freezing. 

But 'twould be worse and make us curse, 

Our air castles razing, 
'Neath heaven's dome to reach a home 

Where everything is blazing. 



" BEAUTY." 

("Who knows the spirit of man that goeth upward, 
and the spirit of the beatst that goeth downward to the 

earth ?"—£cc/. 3: 21.) 

Beauty was a pretty little pet dog, snow-white, 
And, like the sweet little owner, was good and kind — 

Never cross or vicious, but in canine delight 

The voice of the mistress would always quickly 
mind. 

The maiden's heart was glad as a mockingbird's song, 
For ne'er had she known love's fierce conflict with 
duty; 

Gentle and innocent, she gayly tripped along. 
Accompanied by her faithful little Beauty. 

As plainly as if it had been but yesterday 
In memory together can I see them now, 

Going to school, or at recess engaged in play, 
Beauty expressing enjoyment with loud bow-wow. 



(159) 

For more years than make the average human life 
Has little Beauty basked in the "good dog's heaven" ; 

But the dear little girl survives, the noble wife 
Of the fortunate man to whom her hand was given. 

If, in the Hereafter, little Beauty should meet 
The spirit of the little owner here below, 

It may be they'll recognize each other and greet 
Again as they were wont to do long time ago. 

In the Spirit World not dimly as through a glass 
Are things seen, and souls know as they also are 
known ; 

And who knows but in that clime Beauty and the lass 
Together may rejoice before their Maker's throne? 



"I'SE GOT A FEELIN' FOR YOU." 

I received your card this evening. 
And, though I have nothing new, 

I haste to answer your message, 
" T'se got a feelin' for you." 

For bygone years I often pine. 
And sometimes I'm very blue ; 

But cheer your words like the sunshine, 
"I'se got a feelin' for you." 

I can bear my sore afflictions 
While you to me remain true, 

And sweetly and truly tell me, 
"I'se got a feelin' for you." 

When I am summoned from this world 
The dark valley to pass through, 

Will you tell me then, old sweetheart, 
"I'se got a feelin' for )'ou"? 



(i6o) 



RILEY'S CUSTARD PIE. 

That custard pie is placed too high 

For childish hand to take it, 
Though rays of moons were silver spoon 

With which from sky to rake it. 
The cow that jumped over the moon 

Gave the cream poured on it, 
And cloud is veil, like comet's tail. 

To keep the fly (in') meteors from it; 
And stars so bright electric light 

In the dark night to show it. 



DANCING. 



Among the pleasures I recall 
To youthful heart entrancing, 

Enjoyed I most the social ball 

Where beaux and belles were dancing. 

The memory of that bliss remains, 

Perhaps a foolish notion ; 
But stirring fiddle's lively strains 

Still set my feet in motion. 

The figures of the fast square dance 
To me did strongly appeal : ■ 

O'er sounding floor I'd gayly prance 
In quadrille or Virginia reel. 

Quickly obeyed was prompter's call, 
Heard above music and din : 
"Salute your partners; balance all; 
Forward four and back again; 



(i6i) 

" First lady cross over ; solo, gent, 
And opposite partner swing." 
Halleluiah! Away I went, 

Nimbly cutting the pigeon wing. 

In round dance I my partner faced, 
And we, with step true or false, 

My arm tight about slender waist. 
Moved in measured time of waltz. 

I felt as if in Paradise 

As o'er the room we glided, 
And graceful form, in clasp like vise. 

In mazy whirl I guided. 

How thrilling was magnetic touch. 

Deluded souls humbugging ! 
Though thought I not the waltzing much, 

Heavenly was the hugging. 



HORRIBLY HARD AND TERRIBLY TOUGH. 

(An Alliterative Acrostic.) 

Hobbled have I in thorny trail, 

Whistled in warmth, smiled in shiver ; 
Weary and worn, flighty and frail. 

En route to wharf on Stygian River! 
Lightly lilt in saddest stratum; 
Laughingly learned Charon's ultimatum : 
"Sign, ship — junk for Jubadatum." 

(Note. — Jubadatum is the final abode of old bach- 
elors.) 
11 



(l62) 



BUT A SHADOW. 

Ill the morning of creation, 

By authority most high 
Was issued the proclamation 

That all mankind must die. 

Yet God, the Father, through the Son, 
Brought redemption in His name; 

When o'er the grave He triumph won, 
But a shadow death became. 

To the shadow King man must bow 

And time relations sever. 
Past and future merge into Now, 

And Now become Forever. 

But, when end all temporal storms. 

In wisdom, mercy and love 
Will be changed terrestrial forms 

To immortal forms above. 

Bereaved heart, think not thyself forsaken. 
The summoned again thou'lt see ; 

That sweet spirit, from earth taken. 
Is watching to welcome thee. 

No evil there the soul shall fear 
Where wrongs of earth are righted, 

And hearts in sorrow parted here 
Will there be reunited. 



(i63) 



THE BORROWED NICKEL. 

Perhaps I may at this late day 
Your sense of humor tickle. 

By sending you what's long been due, 
A "predatory" nickel. 

You may decide me you should chide 

As being false and fickle ; 
You didn't think you'd lose the chink 

By lending me a nickel. 

Seems it funny "tainted" money 
Showld owner put in pickle — 

And dreadful thing for money king 
To be swiped of a nickel. 

An adage old as love of gold, 
"A muckle's many a mickle " ; 

All fortunes great accumulate 
By hoarding every nickel. 

A man may fret and work till sweat 
From every pore shall trickle ; 

But you may bet he'll die in debt 
Who never saves a nickel. 

We toil and slave, and pinch and save, 
Till mowed by death's keen sickle; 

Then leave the earth as at our birth 
Without a single nickel. 



(i64) 



THE OLD MAID IN HEAVEN. 

From earth with its sorrows and cares 

Did a woman emigrate; 
Alone she climbed the Golden Stairs 

And knocked at Heaven's gate. 

Aroused from sleep, did Peter cry 
In voice loud, "Who comes there?" 
"A woman from earth," was the reply, 
"Who seeks admittance here." 

" To let you come alone I wonder 
Your hubby wasn't afraid." 
The woman said, "Fate or blunder 
Forced me to be an old maid." 

" You should have used gumption and spunk 
And squandered some fool's pelf, 
And with you brought the trifling skunk. 
And not come here by yourself." 

"I did my best," the woman said, 
" The shy skunks to enthrall ; 
But they from me in terror fled, 
And the d — 1 got 'em all." 

" Your course, no doubt, was but human, 
And lacked you not for grit ; 
But you're the first and only woman 
That couldn't some skunk outwit. 

" Should Heaven become a ' Spinster's Convent,' 
The result no one could tell ; 
And should you be to Tophet sent, 
You'd run 'em out of h — 1." 



(i65) 

Then, where the blossoms never fade. 
Abundant entrance was given 

To the first and only old maid 
That ever went to Heaven. 

'Mong the flowers she proudly walked 

And held her noggin level, 
The sole woman who Peter out-talked, 

And thus escaped the d — 1. 



DEPARTED. 

Heaven's summons has been obeyed. 
And loved one has departed, 

Safe passed through the shadowy vale. 
And left you broken-hearted. 

Gone is your dearest earthly friend — 
Life holds not such another^ 

And now in poignant grief you kneel 
And weep for your sweet mother. 

God wanted her in a better world, 
Free from all sin and care; 

He His ministering angels sent 
And took her spirit there. 

Sweet consolation to stricken soul, 
Though falls here the chastening rod. 

Blessed hereafter be the pure in heart 
In the kingdom of their God. 



(i66) 



RHEUMATISM. 

Physicians claim rheumatism is caused 

By an acid in the blood, 
Which, settling in the joints and muscles, 

Makes one chew the devil's cud. 

They don't know anything about it ; 

It comes from mother and sire, 
And is the sublimated quintessence 

Of the brimstone in hell fire. 

You may eat with seeming enjoyment, 

And to others appear well ; 
Yet, if you have rheumatism badly. 

Life will be an earthly hell. 

Though in that place of endless torment 

Dives talked as he was wont; 
But here, when tortured with rheumatism, 

All you do is cuss and grunt. 

Smallpox may sadly mar your beauty. 

And dropsy your body swell. 
Measles make you sick as the devil. 

But rheumatism gives you hell. 

Preachers prate about the sinner's doom, 

Sulphurous conflagration. 
And death eternal ; but rheumatism 

Is both hell and damnation. 

For the unfortunate rheumatic 

Finally will ring the knell, 
And men will say, " He's passed in his checks 

And gone on from hell to hell." 



(i67) 

LILLIAN. 

As pass the days of youth 

We would recall in vain, 
]\Iay ne'er a lowering cloud 

On you its fury rain ; 
But happy may you be, 

For you sweet flowers blow, 
As change your tresses dark 

To age's honored snow. 

^lay j'ou the paths of peace 

E'er tread with footsteps light; 
Be bright to you the da)-. 

And starry be the night : 
On you the sun of hope 

E'er cast its genial beam, 
And faith make glad your soul, 

And life be a sweet dream. 

When wins some happy man 

The heart that now is free. 
Your cherished ideal 

Most worthy may he be ; 
Together may you know 

The bliss of wedded life — 
He, your loving husband, 

And you, his darling wife. 

Where, on the tree of Life, 

The blossoms never fold. 
And silver-crested waves 

E'er wash the strands of gold. 
When sleeps in dreamless calm 

Your body 'neath the sod, 
May rest your spirit pure 

In the Heaven of vour God. 



(i68) 



GINGER BLUE. 

All children need constant guarding 
From ailments not a few, 

And there's a safe preventative 
Sometimes called Ginger Blue. 

For an attack of naughtiness ■ — 
The remedy's not new — 

Just take 'em out behind the house 
And give 'em Ginger Blue. 

People believed in olden times 
That children thrived and grew, 

Doctored on that panacea 
Then known as Ginger Blue. 

I was inclined, when a small boy. 

My own way to pursue, 
And it required to keep me straight 

A lot of Ginger Blue. 

I had bad spells of cutting up. 
And the first thing I knew 

My dear mother would blister me 
With Spanking's Ginger Blue. 

She shook it well when applying. 
And well did I shake, too, 

As with cowhide in good old style 
She rubbed in Ginger Blue. 

When we've attained maturer years. 

Like children oft we do. 
And of our Father beg in tears 

For what's but Ginger Blue. 



(i69) 

Sometimes He smiles behind a frown 
And, in love kind and true, 

Across His lap He turns us down 
And gives us Ginger Blue. 



"BUST THE BILER, PETE." 

We're so headstrong we rush along 

And lay our plans complete. 
To gain the day and have our way 

Or bust the biler, Pete. 

Unjust or fair we little care. 

Suffer we not defeat, 
But push our claim with selfish aim 

Or bust the biler, Pete. ♦ 

Too stubborn we our faults to see, 

Ofttimes we use deceit, 
And think it right to win the fight 

Or bust the biler, Pete. 

We do our best to throw the rest. 
With trick their passes meet. 

And with a frown hard trip them down 
Or bust the biler, Pete. 

We stack the pack and turn the jack 
By sleight of hand discreet; 

With stolid face we lead the ace 
Or bust the biler, Pete. 

With bated breath we cheat till death 
And strive each hand to beat; 

We bluff the game and win the same 
Or bust the biler, Pete. 



( I70) 



MY LOST LITTLE SWEETHEART. 

When thou wast but a Httle sprite 

And not 3'et-in thy teens, 
And still too young to know aright 

What that wild passion means, 
I loved thy little childish face 

With all my might and main. 
Nor did the years that love erase 

Or free my heart again. 

If I had known thou ne'er couldst be 

My own sweet bonny bride, 
I might have kept aloof from thee. 

Nor loitered by thy side; 
But, like the moth around the light, 

I lingered near thy form 
That I might win thy smile so bright. 

Thy heart so pure and warm. 

I vainly dreamed that I might claim 

Thy love, thy heart, thy life. 
And thou some day shouldst wear my name, 

My loving, faithful wife; 
But I ne'er held in mine thy hand 

And heard thee say, " I will " ; 
For by my side thou ne'er didst stand 

And thy sweet vows fulfill. 

Had I been sure I could not gain 

The one I loved so well, 
I might have missed the galling pain 

That made my soul rebel 



(I70 

Against the harsh decrees of fate 
That thou shouldst ne'er be mine. 

But shouldst become another's mate 
And bless his life with thine. 

Thou couldst not wear for my own sake 

The orange blossoms sweet, 
The solemn vow thou couldst not take 

To be my true helpmeet ; 
O'er thy dear form the bridal veil 

For me could never fall, 
For fate decreed that I should fail 

And drink that cup of gall. 

Lost promised bride, though ills betide, 

I'll forget thee never, 
And in my heart wilt thou abide 

My Love-Queen forever. 
It was like death to give thee up — 

Oh, how I rue that day ! 
And still I drink that bitter cup, 

Though I am old and gra)'. 

The weary years have come and gone, 

They brought not peace to me ; 
Sad and forlorn, have I lived on 

In hopeless grief for thee. 
Aly heart has ached, I suffer still ; 

But, when this life is o'er, 
^^'ith deathless joys my soul shall thrill. 

And I shall grieve no more. 



( 172) 



WHEN I DIE. 

Die must I, though I know not when I shall die; 
Only God knows that time. It may not be long, 
Or it may be years hence. It may be daytime 
When comes to me the call to another world, 
Or it may come as a thief in the darkness. 
The sun may be brightly shining, or his face 
May be closely veiled with thick, lowering clouds; 
Or the moon may be smiling down on the earth, 
And the stars twinkling in the sky, when I die. 
Beside me loved ones may watch when the feeble 
Heart-beats cease forever, or among strangers 
May go out the flickering lamp-light of life, 
Or I may be alone when I die. Conscious 
Of approaching dissolution I may be. 
Or death may steal on me when I am dreaming. 
With beautiful spring flowers may be covered 
My coffin, or my grave in the frozen ground 
Be dug. Dead, I shall not know the difference. 
My kindred may weep for me when I am dead; 
And, when is heard the rumbling of the cold clods 
That from mortal sight my form will ever hide. 
Tears may moisten the cheeks of the bystanders 
Who think of lost ones sleeping where I shall rest ; 
And, when is smoothed o'er the hillock above me. 
And slowly are dispersing those who attend 
My burial, o'er the mound 'neath which I lie. 
In silent grief tenderly some one may stoop 
And water with tears the blossoms by loving 
Hands thereon placed. The living will go away. 
Leaving the dead with the dead, and forgotten 
Will be the dead. Through the portals of death 



( 173) 

Must life pass, for death is but the beginning 

Of life eternal. / shall live forever! 

I can not die ; my body must perish ; 

But the Savior hath proclaimed: "Whosoever 

Liveth and believeth in me shall never die." 



WHEN— THEN. 

When winter's snows are falling fast 

And Boreas fiercely blows, 
If influenza you should have, 

Be sure to wipe your • — face and hands after 
bathing, or dabbling in the water may cause you to 
have pneumonia. 

When bonny bride, and in your cheeks 

The love-blush crimson glows. 
Ere cherry lips meet bridegroom's kiss, 

Be sure to blow your — bridal tapers out and 
perform that smacking osculatory juxtaposition where 
Moses was when the light had been extinguished, or 
some one might see you and tell Ma. 

When paid have I the final debt 

That man to Nature owes, 
May briny drops your blue eyes dim, 

As you snub and wipe your — weeping eyes 
because you've lost the best friend you ever had that 
you never saw. 

When you are old, as I am now, 

And nears your life its close, 
On apron white, as grandma dear. 

Oh ! gently wipe your — ■ spectacles, as in reverie 
you read again these soul-stirring lines. 



(174) 



THE BIRDIES' BALL. 

One bright spring day, with plumage gay, 

On the grass beside a rill 
That flowed along with merry song 

Through a copse near Fairy Hill, 
The birdies all went to a ball, 

And each one took a bill. 

How they did dance, hop, skip and prance 

To music brooklet made ! 
On went the fun till set the sun 

And fell the evening shade; 
Then birdies all went home from ball, 

And silent was the sflade. 



THE GRASS GROWS GREEN AGAIN. 

In bright springtime, with merry chime, 

Adown fair Memory's lane. 
Will sound no more sweet bells of yore, 

While the grass grows green again. 

The dreams of youth no more are ours, 

Only its sorrows remain ; 
Still in beauty bloom the flowers. 

And the grass grows green again. 

For us some day loved ones will weep. 
But their tears will be in vain ; 

Yet o'er the mounds 'neath which we sleep 
Will the grass srrow green again. 



(175) 

Till all from earth have passed away 
Will there be sunshine and rain, 

And, while the night follows the day. 
The grass will grow green again. 



SILEN'CE. 



Silence prevails in the vast depths 
Of the fathomless old ocean, 

For no force in that mighty deep 
Can set the sound waves in motion. 

High up in the boundless ether, 
Beyond the limits of vibrant air. 

A deathlike stillness reigns supreme, 
For sound of earth ne'er travels there. 

In Hoh' Writ it is declared. 

In the Book of Revelation, 
\\'as silence once in Heaven among 

The saved of many a nation. 

For the reason man's racked his brain 
And cause sought with diligent care ; 

But silence in Heaven could only reign 
Because there are no women there. 



(176) 



GO AND COME. 

On the golden grain in the field 
Did the morning sunlight glow ; 

The Lord of the harvest appealed 
To the reapers, saying, "Go." 

In His vineyard, on laden vine, 
Did luscious grapes purple grow ; 

To pick the fruit and press the wine 
To idle hands He said, "Go." 

That also we shall surely reap 

Whatsoever we shall sow ; 
Though we 'mid thorns and tares may weep, 

In love the Master says, "Go." 

When finished the appointed work 
That burdensome seemed to be, 

To those that did not duty shirk 
Jesus said, " Come unto me." 

Let us perform the task given, 

Be our lips to complaint dumb, 
Then to the fadeless joys of Heaven 

God through the Spirit says, "Come." 

When's ended our mortal career. 
As death our senses doth numb. 

To His outstretched arms may we hear 
The loving Savior say, " Come." 



( 177) 



HEREAFTER. 

Till collapses heaven's vaulted dome. 

As storm-blown roof with broken rafter. 
Will earth-born souls be summoned Home 

To their meed in the Hereafter. 

Blessed are they who walk upright. 

Who duty's path have ever trod, 
\Miether led it in sunshine bright 

Or was shadowed by chastening rod. 

Beautiful was Iiis Christian life. 

No evil did its luster dim : 
Now to that Clime, free from all strife. 

The dear Father has welcomed him. 

Though comes to all the parting hour, 
And pressed be casket by cold sod. 

The grim monster has no power 
Over life hid in Christ with God. 

His form by death has been smitten, 
But the soul has gone to its reward. 

And rests with those of whom 'tis written: 
"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lorr 

Then let life be filled with sweet song 
And merriment and glad laughter. 

For are unknown suffering and wrong 
In the glorious Hereafter. 



12 



(1/8) 



ALWAYS. 

Swiftly fled the roseate morning, 
Gone the splendor of noontide rays, 

And now, as fast fall evening shadows, 
May the dear God keep you always. 

Only in reverie you'll know again 
The happiness of youthful days, 

When, 'mid trials and temptations. 
The loving God kept you always. 

Devious and perilous the paths. 

And many a sheep from the fold strays ; 
But in safety and innocence 

The Good Shepherd keeps you always. 

AVhen your pilgrimage is over, 

Where blessed angels sing his praise. 

In the eons of duration. 

May the Father keep you always. 



LOVE. 



Love is the most sublime passion 

To human hearts given ; 
It sweetens the trials of life 

And earth makes kin to Heaven. 
. 'Tis an attribute of Divinity, 

And who truly loves here. 
In the cycles of Eternity 

Will love forever there. 



(1/9) 



UNDER THE CEDARS. 

I sit and dream of the glad time 
When I loved my sweetheart so, 

And proudly under the cedars 
Kissed her in the long ago. 

Though I'm old and worn and stricken, 
And my heart is sad and sore, 

My sweetheart, under the cedars, . 
In memory I kiss once more. 

The tide of life is receding. 
Bearing me to Lethe's shore, 

And my sweetheart, under the cedars. 
On earth I'll kiss nevermore. 

But if, in the endless Forever, 

In Heaven evergreens grow, 
I'll kiss my sweetheart under the cedars. 

As I did long vears ago. 



BUTTER'S NOT ALWAYS BUTTER. 

A sudden attack from the rear 
May put the heart a-flutter. 

And seized are we with quaking fear 
Of butter that's not butter. 

Vanity may its own horn toot, 
And truths may sages utter; 

But paradox beyond dispute: 
Butter's not alwavs butter. 



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